So a few hours ago, instead of heading west for the cycle home, I went east to met up with my hiking buddy for a coffee.
We met up at the David Lloyd Club and talked about either walking Rannoch moor or a cycle trip.
So we agreed to do a cycle round the island of Arran this Friday. He’s never been to Arran, and I’ve never cycled 54 miles. So something new for both of us.
I left DL really looking forward to it. Except my cycle home was now dual carriageways through Paisley and Linwood and then a sharp backroad to my village, instead of my normal single carriageway and cycle track route.
Ooof. With a brutal headwind and impatient car drivers, I have to say my urban route took the edge off my enthusiasm.
Low points included being nearly sideswiped by a car joining me from an opposite junction – who then gave me a thumbs up by way of reassurance it wasn’t a premeditated attempt; and then I got leg-waxed by a car on the Brookfield road – double white lines, can’t cross ’em, can’t wait, cyclist expendable.
In a parallel universe somewhere, both those cars won’t start in the morning. And I’ll be rich.