Extreme Adventuring
Yesterday I got to ride a bike for a first time in a long time. It was my brother's friend's bike, and it was grey, so I called Silver, like in IT by Stephen King. But enough of the book-nard stuff, because it took every ounce of self-control that I had not to say "HI-YO SILVER... AWAY!" as I opened the gate and then started pedalling.
It was not until I had passed the gate that I reverted back to my freckled, gap-toothed four-year-old self, learning to ride my bike all over again. You see, I used to ride my bike almost every day up until I was 14 and a boy made a remark about my butt. Since then I stuck to walking everywhere, but now it was 11pm, pitch black and no one around to shout such obscenities to me.
I loved the feeling of being back on a bike again, and I pedalled anxiously while the bike swerved to and fro trying to keep up with my shakey steering. Once my steering steadied, I decided it was time to take on a hill. I rode to the top of the slope and the tipped the front wheel over, pedalling as fast as I could. I don't think you can describe the sensation of going down a huge slope on a bicycle in the pitch black in summer, you just have to do it.
At the bottom of the slope I decided to try out some of my old favourite bike habits, like standing up cycling and back-pedalling (this is one of my favourite things to do ever). I then tried doing some sharp turns and ended up scattering some gravel off somebody's drive. Then I realised that where I live, no one has gravel on their drives.
I was completely and utterly lost. It probably did not help that it was pitch black and no one was around to give me directions. Plus if I knocked on someone's door and asked for help, they would probably through me into the streets again for waking them up. I rode around some more, seeing if I could recognize anything. I cycled back up the slope and still couldn't find my way. I had my camera in my back-pack, so I decided to take some photos incase when I was found dead from a crazy night-time murderer, or just lack of warmth the next day, someone would be able to piece together the last moments of my life, and feel compelled to write a lovely book about it.
Typical British weather, it started to rain, so I ducked into a nearby garage for shelter. I sat down, and then I heard this noise, like snuffling. For some reason, I thought it was the tyres on my bike (shush, I was tired), but then I realised it was an animal. My first thoughts were of a dog, but then I worried about an escaped panther, or maybe a lion. I hopped back onto my bike but decided to see what the animal was, incase it was hurt. I only had the flash on my camera for light. I took a picture, nothing, the snuffling continued. I moved closer to the back of the garage and the noise became louder. So, I picked up my camera and took another picture, and in the flash I saw....
HEDGEHOGS. Gar, the most deadly critters of the British Isles!
I totally want my own night vision camera, so I can make hard hitting nature documentaries about the ferocious beasts of England. I can do the show on my bike, while holding the camera on my shoulder, to give a terrifying angle. Grarrrh, yeah.
No hedgehogs were harmed in the making of this entry. All hedgehogs mentioned above wish to remain anonymous.
Oh yeah, and after the trauma of seeing these scary hedgehogs, I remembered my way again and was able to make it home.
It was not until I had passed the gate that I reverted back to my freckled, gap-toothed four-year-old self, learning to ride my bike all over again. You see, I used to ride my bike almost every day up until I was 14 and a boy made a remark about my butt. Since then I stuck to walking everywhere, but now it was 11pm, pitch black and no one around to shout such obscenities to me.
I loved the feeling of being back on a bike again, and I pedalled anxiously while the bike swerved to and fro trying to keep up with my shakey steering. Once my steering steadied, I decided it was time to take on a hill. I rode to the top of the slope and the tipped the front wheel over, pedalling as fast as I could. I don't think you can describe the sensation of going down a huge slope on a bicycle in the pitch black in summer, you just have to do it.
At the bottom of the slope I decided to try out some of my old favourite bike habits, like standing up cycling and back-pedalling (this is one of my favourite things to do ever). I then tried doing some sharp turns and ended up scattering some gravel off somebody's drive. Then I realised that where I live, no one has gravel on their drives.
I was completely and utterly lost. It probably did not help that it was pitch black and no one was around to give me directions. Plus if I knocked on someone's door and asked for help, they would probably through me into the streets again for waking them up. I rode around some more, seeing if I could recognize anything. I cycled back up the slope and still couldn't find my way. I had my camera in my back-pack, so I decided to take some photos incase when I was found dead from a crazy night-time murderer, or just lack of warmth the next day, someone would be able to piece together the last moments of my life, and feel compelled to write a lovely book about it.
Typical British weather, it started to rain, so I ducked into a nearby garage for shelter. I sat down, and then I heard this noise, like snuffling. For some reason, I thought it was the tyres on my bike (shush, I was tired), but then I realised it was an animal. My first thoughts were of a dog, but then I worried about an escaped panther, or maybe a lion. I hopped back onto my bike but decided to see what the animal was, incase it was hurt. I only had the flash on my camera for light. I took a picture, nothing, the snuffling continued. I moved closer to the back of the garage and the noise became louder. So, I picked up my camera and took another picture, and in the flash I saw....
HEDGEHOGS. Gar, the most deadly critters of the British Isles!
I totally want my own night vision camera, so I can make hard hitting nature documentaries about the ferocious beasts of England. I can do the show on my bike, while holding the camera on my shoulder, to give a terrifying angle. Grarrrh, yeah.
No hedgehogs were harmed in the making of this entry. All hedgehogs mentioned above wish to remain anonymous.
Oh yeah, and after the trauma of seeing these scary hedgehogs, I remembered my way again and was able to make it home.