The great escape

Ah the olive groves... thousands of acres of symmetric trees glistening in sun-speckled solitude. It must be the Tour of Andalusia that appears to burst from my tv.

Beautiful. But not reality. No indeed, while a whole bunch of mad Spaniards juiced to the gills flung themselves around the B roads of southern Spain real life was being played out on an insignificant piece of blacktop between Enniscorthy and Wexford.

Back story. Cue the music....

I brought my daughter to enniscorthy for a tennis camp. I planned to go cycling whilst she belted backhands and drank Robinsons. The missus wanted a fitbit from a shop in Wexford so I thought I'd kill two birds and enjoy the spin. Little did I know....

I love headwinds. When you turn around they become your friends. There I was having my eyebrows reshaped by a howling hoor of a southerly and making as much headway as a brexit negotiator when I ran into roadworks. This wasn't some farty old few yards of tar or line-painting. Oh no, this was a one mile stretch of crazy one-way-only that had me ringing my psychologist before the biscuit-eating, hipster-bearded Neanderthal sign-man turned the lollipop to 'Go'. I was now time crunched. Don't tell the missus but I jumped a creamery truck, now set free and pedalled like a gurning goat in it's slipstream at 71km/h.

So far so good. I turned in towards Wexford town and hit the Flandrien concrete roads along by the river with panache. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum for an eternity.

Drew Barrymore. She was the spit of Drew Barrymore. In looks anyway. Alas the good-time, girl-next-door Drew had been replaced by a humourless kid with the people skills of freddie Kruger. She didn't like that I had vouchers. Didn't like that I had a laser card too.Didn't like that I refused the insurance I could have with the product. I was the only customer in Argos but I wasn't feeling the love. It still needed a calendar to time the fitbit coming from the storeroom to front of shop. Like they were busy. Once outside and with a quick glance at the Garmin I knew it was serious. Would I make it to enniscorthy on time to pick up my daughter? Cue tense music....

I retraced my pedal strokes. Concrete roads. Check. Traffic lights. Check. Jump a truck? Check. Don't tell the missus but I jumped a concrete delivery truck and maxed out my gears at 73km/h. Avoided a suicidal pensioner in Oylegate. She only seemed to look left. French I assume. Shimmied a shite-fest of epic proportions thanks to a slurry carrying farmer and rode into enniscorthy with 3 minutes to spare. And brown in colour. Pretty.

My daughter beamed as I rolled in just as she finished up. My heart soared. Because I'd timetrialled like an animal for 40 minutes and felt like vomiting.

Lidl car park New Ross. 30 minutes later. Exit the car. Get a cramp akin to childbirth. Lean against the car screaming. All in a day's work. Kill two birds? Enjoy the spin? D'ya know what? I Did!!🤣😣