The Slow Road

 Out of hibernation it came, tired, a bit dishevelled, and in need of some TLC.  Thanks, as always, to the assistance of Ben at Kinetics in Glasgow, and then a bit of cleaning and oiling, the Old Grasshopper turned a tentative wheel.  It's true what they say about riding bikes.  I didn't fall off.  And once I'd been through the gears a few times, it all came back to me.  Slowly.

It must be about four years since these wheels last turned, usurped by that big electric beast that gets me up the hills and into the winds of Avondale.  However, with a need to trundle the fairly level roads and traffic-free cycle paths on the Moray Coast, a plan emerged.  The Grasshopper could find a new home, and the legs could find old muscles.

Eventually, we set off, a bit shaky to begin and an uphill start.  By the time we entered Bauds Woods it was beginning to come back.  Slowly.  Lie back and think of, eh Scotland.  The scent of the pine woods; three white-docked deer bouncing between the trees, a wee fleg at the strange creature rolling by, with a wee flag.

And on we went, it became fun again.  On the flat.  Ever so slight gradients, just enough for a wee twist on the gears, and a little ache in those muscles that don't come into play on a regular bike.

And before we know it the cycle path comes into view, above the golf club at Strathlene, between Findochty and Buckie.  Further than planned, must have been good.  How far is the return?  The return was great too, safely home, and The Grasshopper purrs as the de-greaser eases through the chain and she gets tucked up in the shed.

I think she liked it; I think she'll enjoy the new paths, new views.  As everyone stops and stares.  Wheels turning, again.  Slowly.