R O T H A R . C O M

In my mispent youth, I became quite proficient at destroying tyres on my mountain bike by skidding them through to the carcass. The trail protection and IMBA types out there will be aghast at the very thought of all this wanton trail destruction. People like me give mountain bikers a bad name… whatever. Rest assured most of my sideways moments were saved for tarmac. The route in those days was down an old military road. Very long, very straight and punctuated with several sets of lights. If as you approached them the lights had the poor manners to change to red, then skidding to a stop, finishing exactly on the white line of the junction, wasn’t just the challenge it was the law.

Soon there were a few of us hooning about trying the same gag. We’d pray for damp conditions, ideally just after rain when we could most effectively put into action one of the several variations. There was the distance skid, which involved judging speed, road conditions and weight over the front wheel to see how early you good lock up that rear wheel and start sliding. There was getting the bike properly sideways, speedway style. Then developing that to get a proper fishtail slide going from left to right and back again. Front wheel skids took a lot of practice and some balls, but the aim was to do what ever it was and just stop sliding as your front wheel stopped on that front line – that said if you went in too hot a nice stoppie and endo on the line was a great finishing piece.

In honesty, it’s clear that antics 15 years ago haven’t died a death. Skids aren’t just for kids – some one’s got to show them how it’s done and so I’m still frequently found to be laying down a black strip of bike  rubber just before a set of traffic lights. This morning was one of those days with perfect conditions, just wet enough to get a great slide on, get that rear end right out with some opposite lock and then ease up just a bit so that by the white line it’s come back and you can move into trackstand mode. It was great…

…getting to work and having the building fire alarm set off by someone smoking in a toilet while I was in the shower wasn’t.

Crazy skidding action over at Fearless Gearless.

Most mornings I get the lift up to the 14th floor and the office on my own, but today I bumped into Tyrrell. With water still running off my jacket, he asked how the ride in had been. The answer was predictable really – wet.

Despite getting a good soaking, I went onto explain how it had all been made more interesting by some lack of lane discipline. At the end of Upper Brook Street, the road becomes three lanes wide at a set of lights. There’s the left lane which is left turn only into Grosvenor Street, there’s the centre lane that goes straight on(ish) and up onto the Mancunian Way towards Liverpool and there’s the right hand lane that goes straight on to the bends of fury.

The challenge from the previous set of lights is to get from the left hand lane, to the right hand lane in what is usually quite fast moving traffic. To the uninitiated it’s undoubtedly intimdating, but if you can maintain a fast pace you’re going the same speed as the traffic, so it’s no big deal – certainly no more risky than centre line riding. Anyway no problems with that today. Rocked up to the set of lights in the right hand lane to go straight on, a silver 3 series BMW comes up along side in the middle lane, lights change, off we go.

As you cross the junction the single right hand lane going straight on branches into dual carriageway after a section of hashed markings. So as you cross, you move over into the left hand lane of the road. Except today as I did this, I felt a waft of warm air on my left leg and looked down to see the front wing of the BMW. Quick glance over the shoulder, he backs off and then as he over takes me, gives me the stare. Gives me the stare? That’s right, it’s my fault you can’t drive isn’t it? Why all of a sudden are there lots of dickheads on the road? Am I becoming Samuri? Have a load of people from Leigh recently been employed in Manchester?

I don’t know what’s going on, after almost doing a Fingers Kershaw job on my left hand index finger on Sunday cleaning the commuter, it’s clear my mind is somewhere else. Yet the ride to work is usually done at a cracking pace where I’m busy focusing on the traffic, the timing of the various sets of lights and looking for potholes, so that there’s not much time for the mind to wander. Going to be extra vigilant from now on.

A week of effort has paid off and it’s all gone to plan. I still need to add some finishing touches to the project I’ve been working on, but other than that it’s all good. I can look forward to the weekend now and have no worries about work.

This is a good thing, because it means I’m not so preoccupied with my thoughts. This is essential when f****** idiots are trying to kill you on the way to work. Not one, but two, expensive german saloon driving buffoons tried to cut me up this morning. The first was the driver of a burgandy BMW 5 series who tried to cut me up and almost got a foot scrapped along their wing before they backed off the gas and let me keep my space in front of them. Sod off you dick, I’m doing 28mph on a bike in a 30mph zone and you want to overtake me so you can cut me up for the next left hand junction? I think not.

The second probably only about 15 seconds later was the driver of a silver E-Class Mercedes who, as I was trying to change lanes just sat along side me looking at me through their passenger window and neither accelerated or slowed down. It ended up putting me into the armco at the side of the road when I ran out of space. I stopped in time, but for the love of god, where do there people learn to drive? Also why is it that these incidents only ever occur when it’s pissing it down? Being on a bike is miserable enough when it’s wet and you’re suffering from reduced braking distances and greasy diesel covered city streets.

I moved offices again at work. I’m no longer able to look out of the window as I sit with my back to the one in my new location. This I have decided is no bad thing because when it’s raining I can’t tell. This is good for the soul because there’s nothing more depressing than looking over a grey, bleak and wet city. This year seems to have gone pretty much from Spring to Autumn with only two weeks of summer in Manchester, when of course I wasn’t here. Talking of which I almost wasn’t here after this morning when on the way to work I was cut up by a Stagecoach bus on Oxford Road. I remember why I never ride in that way now. I have a near miss almost everytime I ride to work along Europe’s busiest bus route.

One of the things I’ve been meaning to do in the garage for ages is to sort out my tyres. There’s been tyres in bags, tyres in boxes, tyres hanging on hooks, new tyres, used tyres, muddy tyres… Lots of tyres and no easy means of finding the tyre you’re looking for or keeping them in one place. Two Estate Agent For Sale sign posts (there is an advantage to student beer trophies), a few nails and a little patience later and there’s now a tyre rack in the garage to keep things organised.

I don’t post these very often, but this is a good’un.

Two guys meet up in a bar. The first one asks, “Did your hear the news – Mike is dead??!!!”

“Woah, what the hell happened to him?”

“Well he was on his way over to my house the other day and when he arrived outside the house he didn’t brake properly and boom – He hit the curb, the car flipped over and he crashed through the sunroof – Went flying through the air and smashed through my upstairs bedroom window.”

“What a horrible way to die!”

“No no, he survived that, that didn’t kill him at all. So, he’s landed in my upstairs bedroom and he’s all covered in broken glass on the floor. Then, he spots the big old antique wardrobe we
have in the room and reaches up for the handle to try to pull himself up. He’s just dragging
himself up when bang, this massive wardrobe comes crashing down on top of him, crushing him and breaking most of his bones.”

“What a way to go, that’s terrible!”

“No no, that didn’t kill him he survived that. He managed to get the wardrobe off him and crawls out onto the landing, he tries to pull himself up on the banister but under his weight, the banister breaks and he goes falling down on to the first floor. In mid air, all the broken banister poles spin and fall on him, pinning him to the floor, sticking right through him.”

“Now that is the most unfortunate way to go!”

“No no, that didn’t kill him, he even survived that. So he’s on the downstairs landing, just beside the kitchen. He crawls in to the kitchen, tries to pull himself up on the stove, but reached for a big pot of boiling hot water, whoosh, the whole thing came down on him and burned most of his skin off him.”

“Man, what a way to go!”

“No no, he survived that, he survived that! He’s lying on the ground, covered in boiling water and he spots the phone and tries to pull himself up, to call for help, but instead he grabs the light switch and pulls the whole thing off the wall and the water and electricity didn’t mix and so he got electrocuted, wallop, 10,000 volts shot through him.”

“Now that is one awful way to go!”

“No no, he survived that…”

“Hold on now, just how the hell did he die?”

“I shot him!”

“You shot him? What the hell did you shoot him for?”

“He was wrecking my house.”

Been up to Geordieland for the weekend and it was champion. It’s been a good ten years since I went up to the north east and it’s changed a lot from my memories of the place. Granted it still wasn’t warm, but at least this time it didn’t rain the entire time and the pizza in Jesmond was ace! Spent Saturday wandering around Newcastle and headed over the Tyne to check out Baltic. It was a great trip, but I might need to get a guide before the next visit.

In terms of Bikes it seems Chris’ insider knowledge on new products coming out of the Trek/Gary Fisher partnership was spot on. The new Roscoe is like a slightly shorter travel version of my fantastic Remedy 9. Talking of which why is it no matter how much helicopter tape you put all over a frame it always gets scratched in the unprotected areas? Some flat pedal pin scratches and chain slap have left their marks so a quick trip to Halfords means I now have some suitable touch up paint…

A while back I mentioned Charlie Kelly and the fact that his website is a great resource on the history of mountain biking. What I didn’t know then, but do now, is that he’s also a contributor to Dirt Rag. I thought that his write up from the Specialized product launch was one of the best reads I’ve had in a long time.

It’s been pointed to me that I didn’t actually post up any portraits of Neil Mottershead into his 50th Birthday set. Well I guess I never set out to take any shots like that. I get embarassed asking people to pose and they get conscious of the fact that there’s a lense pointing at them. Any way I snapped some pictures of Neil last year, so here’s one of them:

Photos from a very special trip to the Switzerland including some previously unexplored trails not just for us but also for our guide Jamie Carr from Ride the Alps. Top trip, great company and a bit of a party or two!

When I turn fifty I want to be pulling cool tricks like Neil – the guy has serious amounts of class and talent! More photos up on Flickr.

It was also great to meet Jules Fincham from Cycle Wild Scotland on the trip (although we only rode together for a day before he jetted off). He’s a top bloke and runs his business out of Aviemore, where he knows Ben Davies and the gang in Bothy Bikes. I’ll have to get up there for some riding in the near future.