I must be slightly mad, no really... Having spent the vast majority of the day in Bolton town centre I decided it'd be an awesome idea to go on a ride to my father's at 5:00PM, smack bang in the middle of the rush hour! I didn't see one cyclist so I believe that proves how mad I was. Most of the time I hit Chorley New Road, drop onto Park Road and swing down past the local park and along Spa Road past the gas works, so taking the same route I then realised something; the traffic was quite heavy...
I wasn't going to turn back, I had family to torment, so I passed Lads and Girls club at around 20mph, just making it through the junction. Normally I pass the magistrate courts and bus station but decided to try Le Mans Cresent instead. As I swung around the corner passing Whittakers (if you know Bolton you should be getting a mental picture now) I saw a lovely group of scallies on the steps of the other courts we have - why do I get the abuse? Sure I look like mash potato poured into a tube sock with a lycra top on but hey I can lose that weight, they'll always be scallies.
No matter, swinging around the Cresent and coming out at the market I take a left turn and head towards the old Canon cinema (which is now overly expensive rabbit hutches); I love this corner and pray that I can hit it at a decent speed. Lights stay green...! WOOOO Around I go, right, with oddly no traffic around at all... That all changed as I hit Bury Road and started the long, up and downy ride to my father's house.
Something about road layouts confuse me; why is it when a car wants to turn right there's always a pot hole to their left? Most of the the time it's a grid which has sunk a little, and this was no exception. It's not as bad as it used to be, someone has tried to fill it in a little and left a small flat bit to the left side. In the past I've had to swing out to the honking of horns - what do they expect me to do? Bunny hop onto the pavement? Maybe jam my anchors on and have them crash into me? Ride over the pothole, hope to god I don't buckle my wheels and end up under theirs? The glare of death usually warns most drivers that I am an irate son of a bitch and they slow for me.
Some of the greatest things about Bolton are the roads, whilst they're usually pot hole stroon (odd word that), we do have some nice swingy roads. A gentle, arching right brings you up a hill and into an area that I always associate with my little brother, Dunstan Street - well Dunstan Street's quite a way from the main road but it still gets called Dunstan, or as he called it as a baby 'Dundun street'. I like this climb, it used to hurt but now I can almost get up it without weesing. The traffic is insanely heavy now, with drivers deliberately pulling left so I can't get past - I'm on a bike you silly person, I can walk around you *hugs traffic jams*. I dismount past 3 cars, whistling some terrible tune by Cascada, remount and wobble my way along Bury road.
The way back from my Father's was an uneventful trip, town was quiet (around 6.30pm) so I could pretty much bomb around. I went back the route I normally go, passing by a large group of scallies playing 'who can hit the other one harder with a tree branch'. Maybe that's the mating ritual of the scallie. Getting home the cat greets me with a 'Oi, where the hell is my food?!' before proceeding to ignore it and want what I'm eating instead.
YAY for cats!
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