Author Archives: Bullet (Le)

About Bullet (Le)

It's a tough ask, but somebody has to look this good...... The most important thing in cycling is to look the part.

Rapha Gentlemen’s Ride Report: Part 1

Catholic mystic,  Pierre Teilhard de Chardin said, We are not human beings having a spiritual experiencewe are spiritual beings having a human experience.” If you ascribe to that tenet, then everything you do, say, or experience is an opportunity to reach out and grab hold of that grand idea. That’s why we, dream, that’s why we strive, and that’s why we “just do shit” (Source: DT).

So when I mistakenly showed up cc’d on an email entitled “Rapha Gentlemen’s Race,” I thought “just keep your head down Bullet, pay your dough, and by the time they wake up, it’ll be too late.” Perhaps I was being too hard on myself; I was, after all eminently qualified to live in the company of the Raphaelite:

  • I could grow a foxy George Clooney
  • I rode an Italian Steel mistress
  • I could do sultry, yet mildly disdainful looks to camera
  • I’d been on the tele, so knew my good side
  • I was just as big a knob as any of them.

It was to be a spritely jaunt (location to TBA) filled with “’triffing, whizzing, and lashes of Ginger Beer – a real top notch gadabout”. I hadn’t been this excited since I saw Melinda Robson’s mum getting changed through a crack in the door (cue Simon and Garfunkel…”Here’s to you Mrs Rob(in)son…..”), but that’s another story for another time.

Back to the task at hand……the Rapha Gentlemen’s Race is an annual ride that is held at undisclosed locations – to keep it mysterious and dripping in cache, you are invited to “apply” to compete – to keep it mysterious and dripping in cache; teams being made up of 6 riders, with one team member having to be female – to keep it mysterious and dripping in cache. I promoted my credentials as the rider most suited to this role ie Bullet (La), but Magoo would have none of it – even though we agreed that her George Clooney could potentially outgrow mine. It turned out that Magoo, as CFO (Chief Fashion Officer), held disproportionate sway, so I was in!

The team presented: 

  • Magoo – she of the sleek Merckx (think about it) and faultless fashion sense
  • Fore – he of the firm buttock and desirable wheel (just ask Magoo)
  • Schleck – he of the inspirational leadership, firm but fair, harsh with a hint of “hello sailor”; I’d tumble over a mound if he shouted “CHARGE!” I can tell you.
  • Nicko – skinless, boneless, the poster boy of Heroin Chic and team Greyhound. “I see rabbits” was his menacing mantra.
  • WBA – he of the subtle yet accurate perception – “Don’t be offended, Bullet…..but I’m glad you’re on this team…..that means I won’t be last.” He was right, damn him.
  • And Bullet (Le) – urbane, calm under pressure, courageous under fire, the rock, the foundation stone.

This’ll be a cinch.

Only thing that I could see as possible obstacle, was the fact that I’d never ridden the distance – 143km and 2800mtrs climbing – a minor details, and that I didn’t actually own any Rapha clobber – a potential deal breaker. The CFO had clearly laid out her vision for the ride – “ER Dress Jersey, Rapha Knick and Natty Rapha Yellow socks.”

Riding in the company of “Rapha Gods/esses” I felt compelled to scale Olympus, liquidate whatever was left of my obliterated asset base, and head off to the House of “R”, 88 Bumcrack Road, Slurrey Hills, to right the obvious wrong. WBA had agreed to accompany me, so off we went.

The House of “R” is a wonderland of cycling chic and all round two-wheeled yumminess. Such a feast of cool stuff had my head spinning, not sure where to start, or where it might end? Enter, Clara, Rapha siren resplendent in on-brand attire and suitably exotic accent. She spoke with silken tone and her words clearly conveyed a subtle yet compelling subtext:

Clara (to Bullet): “Can I help you?”

Translation: “You are a beautiful man, you’d look good in anything and even better in nothing.”

Bullet: “Classic knicks and natty socks, thanks.”

Clara: “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’d be a large.”

Translation: “There is a heat burning in me, a fire that only you can quench”

Bullet: “I’ll take them.”

Clara: “Anything else?”

Translation: “If you take the gilet, myself and 2 of my girlfriends friends will make mad, passionate love to you.”

Bullet: “……….mummy”

Clara: “That’ll be $280, thanks”

Translation: “That’ll be $280, thanks”

Bullet (to WBA): “I think we had a connection”

WBA: “Yeah, to your wallet.”

Thanks to WBA, after a quick complimentary coffee from the proprietor, I escaped Clara seductive clutches with my self-respect and bank balance largely intact. We were attired, caffeinated, tapering and were going to look fabulous. All systems go.

Now go and get yourself a cup of tea before you read the next bit.

Saturday morning broke, as did my wind – a mild nervous disorder, I’m told it has something to do with Gluten…..BT?  Collected by WBA with Schleck riding shotgun and Magoo on board, we peeled northward to the departure point that had been distributed via secret communiqué a couple of days prior. It was to be a Galston kick off, circuit out to Wiseman’s Ferry with a sidetrack thrown in, finishing with a Galston return – 146kms with 2800mtrs of climbing (according to the map – here’s the link http://ridewithgps.com/routes/3635812 ).

A cheeky little spin by anyone’s measure.

The carpark at Montview Oval was awash of whiskers, pastels and Zipps. Notable was the vomit tones of the Attacquer team – I think they were called  “The Porcelain Bus Drivers” or maybe it was just what they were wearing. Needless to say there was plenty of the Branded Merch adorning the morning as rider after rider pursed their lips, scanned the general vicinity, and disapproved.  The George Clooney had been superseded by the Ned Kelly, so I found myself wildly underdressed – but it was too late now.

The might ER’s were prepped and ready, a ripple of excitement laced with a dash of trepidation (I hope Bullet doesn’t blow up in the first 20) and sprinkled on our muesli – the perfect start to what we hoped would be an epic day. The weather was cool and overcast, the rain had held off, and it all felt very Fitzroy.

Nicko muttered “I love seeing people with Zipps suffering,” so I knew it was going to be quite a ride.

Quick caffeine hit, trot to the toot to manage the trots, and then we huddled up for the ride briefing. A skinny coot – Mr Pink Tee Fancy Pants – waived a trendy looking clipboard and told us that “everything’s cool. Keep an eye out for the pink (go figure) arrows on the road. Take it easy and let’s have fun,” and began flagging teams at 1 minute intervals.

“Rattling Dags……..go!”

“Sagging Coin Sacks……go!”

“Prostate-a-gogo……….begin!”

“Whiskers for Jesus…….go!”

“Easy Riders……..hey, you guys look great……and man, love that bike……steel is real, baby……go!”

 

Heady with the delirium of having achieved Fitzroy cred (tick that one off the bucket list), we dived into Galston with the past life screams of “Tora, tora, tora” ringing in our ears. It was a snappy descent made all the more exhilarating by the coolness of the morning air, and having gone from dead stop to breakneck in no time flat…..then we got to the bottom.

To be continued…

Sydney traffic chaos

When there’s something strange
On the thoroughfares
Who ya gonna call?
The Captain

When the traffic strife
Takes them unawares
Who ya gonna call?
The Captain

(Wierd riffy bit)

I ain’t ‘fraid of no car……

(Wierd riffy bit)

I ain’t ‘fraid of no car……..

If you get up late
And you miss the “bus”
Who ya gonna call?
The Captain

And the roads are choked
And the drivers fuss
Who ya gonna call?
The Captain

(Wierd riffy bit)

I ain’t ‘fraid of no car……

(Wierd riffy bit)

I ain’t ‘fraid of no car……..

Thursday Fluffer – Sans Goaders

10 ER’s in the blocks this morning – Satnav, B1/m, Magoo, Scott, Andy, Ivan, Kneel, Rob W, Jamie, moi. Clutters was on the side, valiantly recruiting for his tame flutter (gimme a break …). We left him, a sad figure with only the lights of a single AY-UP forlornly reminding him of his failed quest …

A beautiful night sky, not a cloud to dim the starry firmament, provided a perfect backdrop for the run along the ridge to Terry Hills, then the darkest of descents through McCarrs Creek. With the regroup at Church Point we set up a rolling paceline. It worked, sort of, being thrown into disarray by utes, hills, timing, etc. We are getting better.

Mon Capitaine and Simba joined as at PWR. A good pace saw us through to Manly when Herb popped up. He claimed a reverse Akuna at 0500 and a mad chase to bridge to us. I reckon he drove to Manly after sleeping in – Strava will reveal the truth.

Nought else to report – PR’s all round, everyone home safe with coffees ordered by 0745. Cracking morning.

Usual rides this arvo, noting that Dopey is proposing a LCNP this arvo. I haven’t done one, but it promises to be a ripper – birds tweeting, a gentle roll through the Park, then a sprint up Kisso. A complete day in the saddle.

Stay upright,

admin

Andy’s Song

…… a little country and western.

Thinking ‘bout you baby
As the train left Wynyard Station
Packed with people, my only care
Was the chafing and abrasion

Coz you grind me baby
You know you do
But I can’t wait til I’m on top of you
Gonna ride you like a bike
Coz that’s what you are.

You can keep your car
I’ve got my Dogma
As true as a love can be
And you know that she’ll be by my side
As I climb up Allambie

She’s my reason for living
My reason for loving
And she gets me out of bed
And there’s nothing like the joy I feel
When we’re giving each other West Head

Coz you grind me baby
You know you do
But I can’t wait til I’m on top of you
Gonna ride you like a bike
Coz that’s what you are.

 

To be continued…….

Strato Cumulus

Comrades,

I acknowledge the traditional owners of this email and give thanks for allowing me to commune in this sacred place. I can feel their presence.

Australian Property Monitors report this morning a sharp spike in interest and value of postcodes 2070-2075 citing “The appearance of the Captain” as the overriding influence.

Local investors and owner occupiers were out in force to see this rare cyclical phenomenon in action, as such factor convergence in market conditions is far too rare these days.

That said, 30 of the 2070-2075’s most attractive offerings were on display this morning. For many it was their first foray into the market this year, for others it was the hope of a more buoyant times after the sluggish conditions of the previous week.

Some highlights from the catalogue:

  • Captain’s evergreen stunner – “Rolling Downs”, the perfect combination of ease, with just a hint performance. Luxury and delusion in perfect concert.
  • Turnip’s fixer upper – “Balboa Estate” – a rustic charmer in need of some TLC after a recent run in with an erratic buyer during last Thursday’s inspection
  • Shleck’s classic Art Deco – “Moneypenny”. The impressive property has been let go in recent times; the hedges are a little overgrown, all of which adds to the mystery of this top drawer offering. Insiders note a recent garage sale of certain fixtures and fitting suggest that the Schlecks may be more motivated than first indications. Potential for good buying here.
  • Chippo’s compact entertainer – “Nads”. Crisp, clean presentation with bright colours that create an ambience of fun and functionality. A lot of value has been squeezed into this appealing unit. If you poke around inside you’ll find hidden nooks and private spaces to please. This one’s a real peach!
  • The Houghton Family Estate – “Strato Cumulus” a collection rambling gems that carry a warm familiarity. One for the family here

With stock numbers on the rise, many are looking for expansion opportunities to new developments and undervalued opportunities; Flufferville, Aallambie-by-Sea, and Getalong Grove all attracting early season interest.

Tomorrow sees up and coming agent – Goader Partners, testing a bold  marketing innovation – a pre-dawn tour through Flufferville. Expressions of Interest have been strong with many hoping to get the jump on the market and snap up a bargain off the plan.

It’s shaping up to be quite a year and we’ll be looking to set records, maintain high clearance rates and continue the stimulate the market with interesting and attractive offerings from the FM group of companies.

5.15 & 6pm briefings as per.

Bullet (Le)

Post Apocalyptic Commute

The dull grey of the post Apocalyptic age greeted the eye as I squinted out the window.

“Will there be anybody riding in today?”
“Dunno; I’ll find out when I get there.”

Out of the bunk, throw on the nicks, morning ablutions, morning oblations, change nicks (it’s ablutions before throwing on the nicks, silly), protein shake, out with the bike (feeling in a Unibomber frame of mind) and off we go:

  • Swiped by ute within 200 metres – “Happy New Year, D!ckhead!”
  • Resolved to commit to medication regime to manage Tourettes.
  • Down Luton’s driveway – Dopey streaks past like a rabbit on the run, “Sorry Bullet, I didn’t recognise your @rse!”
  • (“The protein shakes are working,” Bullet (Le) is chuffed)
  • 16 on the Pedal for the first Post Mayan Apocalyptic Commute – atmosphere reminiscent of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. “We don’t need another Hero! (Tina Turner)” underscoring the ride
  • There is a BOF in the New World – crack on!

No incedents or other to report. Business as usual in many ways:

  • Quarter, resplendent in the Yulefest garb of the KOM jersey
  • Assumed Quarter took the KOM – I was somewhere back around Chatswood…
  • UB yellow carded for outrageous manoeuvre at the top of Scaramanga – not satisfied with his newly found media whore status (courtesy: Peter Fitzimons, SMH), he seems intent on doing whatever it takes to ensure he remains in the papers. Propose a “Yellow Card” register for transgressions whilst in the livery – no correspondence will be entered into.
  • Big Goaders suggested Le Bullet could be entered into said register for his deft and elegant cornering sweep into West St. Unfortunately, ineligible as I was not in the livery. No correspondence will be entered into (do as I say, not as I do)
  • The B&T open on the first trading day of the year. Outstanding. Sarah looking forlorn due to the absence of Chippo.
  • Fervent discussion around the cancellation of today’s lunch and potential for Sri Lunchalot’s excommunication as a result. Lunch promptly re-instated
  • Planning and strategy breakout groups convened covering – 2013 Ride to the Moon challenge (Total km’s by all members of the ER Group on Strava, sign up ASAP), Fluffer deviations (A Fluffer via Ettalong departing 2.00am from Patto’s – kidding….), The Ride to Work Challenge – track how many of roughly 250 working days each of us ride to work – specifics to follow, The Madison – a beginner’s guide, with keynote address by Richard Measures (in absentia).

So, as sung by the patrons at the World Darts Championships, “‘Ere we go, ‘ere we go, ‘ere we go…..” Set your clocks, start your engines, we’re off on another adventure – 2013.

Confirmation of lunch pending, proposed ETD’s from 16:30 hours onwards (if it’s good enough for the banks….) – as you can see, it’s nose to the grindstone stuff.

Did I mention 16 on the Pedals? Bet you wish you were back at work.

Ride in Peace

Bullet (Le).

Last RR of the year

Okey Smokin Dokey,

Thought it best to end the year in a manner to which I intend to commence the next; full of passion, hyperbole and underarm sniffing.

As the sun begins to set on 2012 and several Mayans wander aimlessly through the back streets of Lindfield ruminating on whether or not they just picked the wrong Frickin’ day, we look back on the final running of the Rhodes Roubaix – and what a cherry popping affair it was…..

Furtive glances and titters of delight greeted our Yuletide Throng atop KPR this morn; one could feel the atmosphere surging, pulsating – nay throbbing, as the appointed hour (well, half hour, actually) approached, for today was to be the day that Sam (Son of Jan) and Dainty Dora were to sacrifice their preciously preserved maidenheads for their inaugural Rhodes Roubaix.

The clock tick over to 6.30 and “Pop” went their combined punnet. A quick smoking ceremony followed by four Our Fathers and off we went.

RTG (RTC), Dopey, Chippo, Bullet (Le), Sam (Son of Jan), Graham, Dora, Dragon, Sri Lunchalot, Virgin (Extra – now that he is sporting a smart new Garmin 500) and Herbicide/Herbivore/Herbal Tea/Herbinator.

Today’s appoint circuit home would be via the Misty Moors of Meadowbank, the Badlands, Inner Westeros and complete sacred songline of the Backdoor – and so it was. Some points to note:

  • Chippo (Kunta Kinte) can confirm that holding an image of a stampeding Wildebeest in your minds eye does make you ride faster, a technique that he hopes to employ on his next ride with Leonardo da Finchi
  • Mr Kinte can also confirm, after his recent ride with LdF, that when one vomits into ones mouth, it tastes just like you’d imagine. Thanks to Kunta for those important insights, and for reminding we mere mortals of what can happen when we dare to play with the Gods
  • Herbicide/Herbivore/Herbal Tea/Herbinator brought to our attention that Mark Seymour (Hunter & Collectors) was playing at the Terrey Hills Tavern. He noted with interest that “How does it go that you can have heaps of hits and end up playing at a sh!thole like that?’ Best advised that Mr Seymour NOT be shown Wolfy Woodstock’s cinematic epic on the ER’s that us underscored with “Holy Grail” composed and performed by said aging rocker – a small matter of copyright infringement
  • No accidents or mechanicals to report; just two Cherry Poppettes (Sam – Son of Jan, and Dora) wondering what all the fuss is was about. First times can be like that……
  • Bullet (Le) reminisced on back catalogues, royalties and the nature of Has Been-ism, and gave thanks that his short but intense time in the rock industry left his sinuses largely intact……
  • In a nostalgic saunter down memory lane, and due to the fact that the Google Coffee Shop was shut, refreshment was sought from our previous haunt – XXll – AKA Cafe Bullet AKA Madame Lash’s. Sans the lick of the lash, we were greet with the squeeze of the eyes and the purse of the lips of Rent Boy Ricardo, the new maitre d’. “No, no, no! You canno’ put ze table togezzer zat way! We will get a farn!” “A farn?” “Yes – a beeg farn from ze carnsil!” “The carnsil…….oh the council. Righto lads. Indoors.” Little atmosphere, no other patrons, average coffee, no split bills, a waiter who can fit four “S’s” into the word “Banana” – Ricardo really turned it on for us.
  • Dragon proposed a minor deviation en route to The Backdoor, inviting us to ride up the steepest hill in Willoughby. Imagination ran riot as we considered the “Col de Pimple”, or the “Lanced Boil” but to our surprise and gratification, it presented something of a challenge. “Who’s idea was this!?!” chirped Ravi the Christ (Only for the holiday season), never one to shy away from a chance to get out of the saddle……Only 100 meters, but at 9% makes it a little pearler…….
  • A pleasant pace throughout dispatching RTG (RTC) at Gordon, Dragon keeping company to Gordon before turning left, when the call was to turn right; much enthusiasm for the NYE Fluffer – 80-90km round trip on Monday morning.
  • Of the 11 on the pedal, 5 were there for the ride with the boys as no work beckoned today for them. Says something, doesn’t it.

God’s speed, Gentlemen.

Bullet (Le)

Songs of the OTP #2 – The Hard Men of the North

The Hard Men of the North
(An homage by Le Bullet)

The Hard Men of the North
We daily venture forth
Through the bitter cold of the winter days
And the stifling heat of the summer blaze
Except of course unless it rains…
And then we stay in bed.

The Hard Men of the North
The lesser trail we blaze
The One True Path, The Manly Way, The Rollercoaster, The Rhodes Roubaix,
We’ll do whatever it takes to stay…
Away from the office.

Ride on, ride on
Our hairs are short, but our routes along.

The Hard Men of the North
Somebody has to be
We brave the traffic and breathe the fumes
We all have exotic noms de plume
That speaks of our masculine virtues…
Except for the bloke called Winkie.

The Hard Men of the North
Performing unenhanced
We’re tough and lithe and mean and lean
And smart and clever and witty and keen
And modest and brave and strong and we…
Like to wear tight clothes.

Hooray, hooray,
To the second best way to start the day.

The Hard Men of the North
The Hard Men of the North
The Easy Riders are here to stay
“All for one” you know what they say
And I don’t mean that in a gay way…

The Hard Men of the North!

Songs of the OTP #1 – A Song with No Name

A Song with No Name………about Cycling.
Another homage by Le Bullet sung to the tune of “A Horse with No Name” by America.

On the first part of the journey
I was lookin’ at all the hills
There were utes, and smells and trucks and cars,
There were G O T F R’s.

The first one I met was a man named DT
And he told me would set me free
Follow me son past the BOF we will run
And the riding will be easy.

You see I ride to the office on a cheap steely frame
Pedalling all of the way
By Scaramanga you can’t remember your name
If Drastic’s in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.

After 2 days on the One True Path
I started to get short of breath
After three days on the North Shore Run
I was dreaming bout the Hills of Death
And the story is told of the riders who rolled
Every morning, it does in my head.

I’ve ridden up the back door bucketing rain
Giggling all of the way
On the Back Door you won’t remember your name
Because Chippo’s in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.

After nine days I let the bike roll free
’cause my legs had turned to Jelly
I started to splutter
So we called it a Flutter
And rode another 70k’s.

My mind was free by the B & T
Only memories remained
So BT writes it every day
And it never ever sounds the same.

You see I’ve ridden through the beaches every couple of days
And now I think know the way
On the Flutter you don’t remember your name
Because Clutters’ in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.

A Song with No Name………about Cycling.
Another homage by Le Bullet sung to the tune of “A Horse with No Name” by America.
On the first part of the journey
I was lookin’ at all the hills
There were utes, and smells and trucks and cars,
There were G O T F R’s.
The first one I met was a man named DT
And he told me would set me free
Follow me son past the BOF we will run
And the riding will be easy.
You see I ride to the office on a cheap steely frame
Pedalling all of the way
By Scaramanga you can’t remember your name
If Drastic’s in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.
After 2 days on the One True Path
I started to get short of breath
After three days on the North Shore Run
I was dreaming bout the Hills of Death
And the story is told of the riders who rolled
Every morning, it does in my head.
I’ve ridden up the back door bucketing rain
Giggling all of the way
On the Back Door you won’t remember your name
Because Chippo’s in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.
After nine days I let the bike roll free
’cause my legs had turned to Jelly
I started to splutter
So we called it a Flutter
And rode another 70k’s.
My mind was free by the B & T
Only memories remained
So BT writes it every day
And it never ever sounds the same.
You see I’ve ridden through the beaches every couple of days
And now I think know the way
On the Flutter you don’t remember your name
Because Clutters’ in the mood for dishing out pain
la la la  la lalala   la la  la  la la.

Friday OTP Report

Just noticed that complete apathy has prevailed amongst the OTP’ers today, with no one bothered to write up a report. Perhaps not surprising, with just 3 in the traps at the start (Stealth, Agro and YHC), and just WBA collected along the way. A minor interaction with a taxi driver encountered at Lindfield, with a Silver Service deciding to do a three point turn in front of Stealth, and when Stealth politely pointed out that the taxi really should have waited until we passed as we had right of way, the driver asked whether Stealth had brakes and why didn’t he just use them. IQ is probably just something the driver has on his Foxtel service. There was a brief discussion held about joining our Rhodes Roubaix brethren at the new café in Pyrmont, however no one could be bothered with that either.

We were joined at the B&T by none other than your regular correspondent BT, and a lively discussion ensued about GPS tracking for bikes including automated anti-collision software, said discussion instigated by the Strava debacle that arose earlier this week where the family of a cyclist who died apparently trying to beat a Strava segment time is trying to sue Strava for causing the accident. Suspect this one will be the subject of much further discussion over the coming months as court proceedings progress.

I’m off early today so won’t see you on the return journey, and back to my second home in PNG next week, so will catch up on the pedals on Monday week.

DT (LM)