Monday, November 17, 2008

The Mystery Of The Missing Words

I was coming home from work the other night, rain bouncing off the tarmac in front of me as I pulled up to a set of traffic lights on Little Steed. I balanced the bike nicely, not having to put my feet down as I waited for the lights to change to green. The man on the rather expensive looking road bike had been following behind me for a few streets, not managing to overtake me because I was able to take the rather more rugged route through the London traffic, jumping off curbs to avoid the lake sized puddles that had formed because our sewer system can't take anymore than 8 litres of water. Which is beyond stupid when you consider how much it rains in this sodden country.

The lights turned green, and because I've got a sprightly gear ratio, I shot off up over the bridge. Coming down the other side of the crest of the bridge, the flash racer man belted past me at a rate of knots. As he went past he looked over his shoulder at me and shouted "Nice *mumble mumble* back there mate". I couldn't make out the whole sentence because my earphones were funneling the sweet liquid of The Jam and English Rose into my brain. Flash cycling man had sounded genuine in what he said...there was no trace of sarcasm or anger in his voice. As I carried on down the road I tried to imagine what those missing words were. Could he have been referring to my wet weather control of Little Steed? Or the poise that was evident at the lights? Was it really sarcastic, only said in an utter dead pan way, and he was highlighting my blatant disregard for public safety by hopping the curb to avoid the otherwise inevitable watery deluge? Or could he have been referring to the striking wet line of water and grease that was splattered up my jeans and over my back in a perfect line with the back wheel?

Or was he simply pointing out that there was some nice roadkill back there and that as I looked like a damp hillbilly he thought that I may have been interested in knowing in case I wanted it for dinner later on.

I doubt I'll ever know.

Because of this line of thought, I can't remember any of the rest of my journey home. It's a wonder that I made it back at all really.

If this had happened to you, what words would you have used to fill in the missing ones?

11 comments:

Princess Pointful said...

Nice singing voice? Or perhaps nice basket on your bike? You do have a basket, right??

David said...

Nice transformation from submarine to bicycle back there mate.

He probably mistook you for one of the older and less realistic 007s.

Crashdummie said...

Hmm, princess coeverd the voice, so I'd say: "Nice rainbow back there mate".

So maybe you shouldnt complain over the rain eh ;)

franny said...

If it had been me riding a bike in traffic? Insert "face plant."

For you? Think positively - poise, skill, etc.

SMARTBuddy said...

Nice 'Track Stand' I expect if you were balancing up at the lights??
Oh and saw this and thought of you - can they really go together?
http://shows.external.bbc.co.uk/help/shows/weller_adele

Cheers!

Aunt Reeny's After Thoughts said...

I think he was saying "Nice Gallagher impersonation back there mate!"

I don't know how you ride in a city as big as London. I refuse to ride on anything but bike lanes here because the drivers be loco...

Beth said...

"Nice ass you got back there mate!"

Stuart Peel said...

Perhaps he actually said 'Nice mumble mumble back there mate' just to weird you out ? It seems to have worked.

Anonymous said...

I think it was definitely "Nice puddle dodge back there mate!" Clearly you are very impressive on a bike.

Katarina said...

or maybe he was saying "nice ass" and the "back there" well meaning back there u know

Ultra Toast Mosha God said...

It's funny that I should read this today. This morning, I had the door to some open tarmac closed on me by a Citroen VTR that inexplicably felt the need to increase it's proximity to a traffic island.

'Jesus!' shouted the driver as I screeched to a halt at her window.

'No' I said as I lifted my bike over the hazardous island and carried on my way