Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
Okay, maybe the collection of Schliech wildlife I bought for Drea was a bit extravagant but it was the plush penguin that I bought for myself that had the Rents rolling eyes. Look he had such a pleading expression I couldn’t leave him on the shelf could I? Anyhow we were soon on our way back to Dernau, not that I saw much of the journey, last night finally caught up and I passed into the land of Nod before we even reached the autobahn.

"Daa-ad, phone,” I called down to the bike cave where he was ‘servicing’ the bike I’d had on tour.
"Who is it, tell ‘em I’ll ring back.”
"It’s George, says its urgent.”
I’m sure he sighed, "Be right there.”

George is of course the owner / manager of the Apollinaris bike racing teams, he mostly looks after the seniors leaving the junior squads day to day running in Dad’s hands. Of course as he’s the boss when he says jump everyone asks how high.

"Gaby?”
"Hmm?” I looked up from my ‘homework’, a rather dry article from a ‘trade’ publication explaining how some forthcoming EU legislation would impact the hospitality trades.
"Can you speak to the rest of the team and set up a conference call for later this evening?”
"That sounds ominous.”
"I’ll explain later, something’s come up, call?”
"Er okay, what time?”
"I have some calls to make first, after dinner?”
"Mand should be back about seven, eight?”
"Eight it is.”
"So what do I tell them?” I asked, hoping for a tidbit myself.
"I’ll explain later,” he repeated.

Doesn’t look like I’m gonna get any inside information. Mum was no help, she was getting ready for the Spring Cobble Classics, a series of one day races mostly in Holland and Belgium but also into northern France. As some of them are on consecutive days the team are being based in Belgium for the duration, this week they are going to do the recce and a sort of cobble riding training camp. There are junior versions of some of the races but they don’t always allow mixed teams like us so despite being the top German under eighteen squad we’ve only had a couple of invites although three of us will be making up most of a National team in the ‘girls’ Fleche Wallone next Saturday.
 

With everything else going on, if I wanted to eat, dinner was going to be down to me, a first look in the cupboards would suggest a trip to the chippy. But we’re in Germany, there is no chippy, the nearest takeaways are several kilometres away. Okay, there is food but I really didn’t fancy too much prep or fancy doings, I found a tub of chilli in the freezer, some reasonably sized taters in the sack, bot exactly Michelin but it’d fill a hole.

"So what’s this all about?” Mand enquired as we cleared the debris.
"No idea, Dad’s been all cloak and dagger since that call with George earlier.”
"Well you’re no good as a spy Bond.”
"I’m licensed to ride not spy,” I retorted.
"C’est drôle.”
"So how was the Bahn Museum?”
"Busy,” she replied stifling a yawn, "Coulda done with a bit more sleep.”
"What time did you get back?”
"After one then Eva picked me up just after six.”

I heard the phone ringing, someone’s keen, its only five to.
 

“… so that’s where we stand,” Dad concluded.

Our trip to ride the Potsdamer Havel Classic in a fortnight looks to be off, Dad’s been seconded to run the senior squad as George has had to go into hospital, something with his heart. That leaves us without a manager or even transport to get to the races.

"How long’s this for like?” Josh enquired.
"How long’s a piece of string,” Dad replied, "Initially its to cover the Classics by which time we should know a timescale for George getting back in the saddle.”
"So no races for what, three weeks?” Daz queried.
"What about next week?” Tali asked.
"That's still happening,” Dad told us, "I’ve spoken to Frank Obermayer, he’ll be in contact with each of you once he’s organised your transport, the rest of you can still do the event at Wuppertal, I can organise transport but you obviously won’t have the usual backup.”
"Be like riding back home like,” Josh opined.
"Couldn’t we do the same for Potsdam,” Gret suggested, "Dad was gonna help anyway.”
"Its only a couple of hours on the train from here,” Tali volunteered.
"Took forever when I went with the school,” I mentioned.
"It was going to be a full day’s drive anyway,” Dad pointed out.
"I guess,” I allowed.
"So in theory you’d all be up for still doing Potsdam?” Dad posed.
"What about Daz?” Mand put in.
"Daz?” Dad prompted.
"Guess I could fly there as easy as Cologne.”
"Of course, you’re back in the UK that week, you could have a week off?”
"I’d prefer to race if I can.”
"Okay, is your Dad there now Greta?”
"I can fetch him.”
"I’ll give him a call in a few minutes, explain directly. So the three of you for the Wupper next week, I’ll get your transport organised, Manda, I’ll leave you to co ordinate stuff okay, lads?”
"Sure Boss,” Josh agreed.
"As regards Potsdam, leave it with me, I’ll speak to Dieter, see what we can organise but in theory you’re all okay with a simpler set up for Potsdam?.”
"Aye,” it was Josh who once again spoke.
"What about after that Dad?”
"Well there’s a gap in the seniors programme before the Giro, we’ll know what’s happening better and have time to get a bit better organised so don’t worry about that yet. Anything else?”

There was silence across the airwaves in reply.

"Okay, I’ll speak with Dieter now, one of us will ring you back, maybe tonight but more likely tomorrow.”
"Can you pass our best wishes to George,” Tali requested.
"Me too,” Gret added.
"I will, bye for now,” and the call was ended.
 

"We’re trusting you girls to not do anything daft while we’re away,” Mum lectured.

Since the conference call Dad’s been on the phone almost solidly for a couple of hours, Mum’s been making a few calls too.

"We aren’t little kids,” I stated.
"No you are two young women and I know from first hand experience that ‘things’ can happen that might seem logical at the time but in hindsight were not such great ideas. Anything recent spring to mind daughter?”

Nothing I’ve done sprang to mind, maybe Nina, Misty’s makeover last week?

"Can’t think of anything.”
"So you’ve been planning on all the tattoos for a while then?”
"Ah, yeah, about that.”
"Yes?”
"Erm, well they’re not actually real.”
"We’re all hallucinating?”
"No, I didn’t mean that, they’re not proper tattoos, they’re just stick on,” i admitted.

Mum’s demeanor subtely changed, was that relief?

"So they aren’t permanent, they fade or something?”
"Its what they use for actors and that, Maria said they usually last about a week or you can clean them off whenever with something like nail varnish remover.”
"I wondered how they did that,” Mand mentioned, "I thought they painted them on or something.”
"I was just stringing you all along for a bit.”
"Hmm, that be as it may, no burning the house down or parties while we’re gone.”
"Mu-um.”
"I mean it Gaby, you can have friends around but I don’t want to come back to complaints from the neighbours or the Polizei.”
"Yes Mum,” I sighed.
"Manda?”
"No parties, no house burning,” Mand stated.
"We’ll be gone before you get home tomorrow, we’ll leave you some housekeeping money, I trust you can feed yourselves?”
"Well duh!”
"One of us will be checking in every day.”
"Mum, we’ll be okay,” I cut into her lecture.
"We’ll see.”
 
"Good, you’re still both up,” Dad opined finding the three of us in the kitchen a few minutes later.
"Just thinking about bed,” I stated stifling the latest yawn, its been a long day, well couple of days.
"I think we’ve got you all organised, Manda, next weekend, the lads will come down on the train, Henny Pinger will take you up in the team bus, pick them up in Köln and take you all across to the race, he’ll let you know times later in the week. You won’t have quite the usual backup but there will be spare wheels and so on. Gab, Frank will be in contact about Belgium probably Thursday.”
"What about Potsdam?”
"Give me a chance kiddo, Dieter and I have been looking at the logistics, the others were quite straightforward but getting you pair there has been a bit more challenging.”
"I thought we were going on the train?” Mand queried.
"Well it was the obvious choice but to be realistic its a minimum of three trains, possibly more, I’m not saying you couldn’t do it but it would take all day and not be particularly relaxing.”
"So what, we’re not going?”
"I didn’t say that, no you two will be flying, Dieter will book everything tomorrow and let you know the details, you’ll have to get to the airport but I’ll get that organised in the morning.”
"What about the bikes?”
"You will need to put them in hardcases, I’ll fetch a couple out before I go, will you be okay packing them, Dieter will rebuild them at the other end.”
"We might be girls but we’re not totally useless,” I told him.
"You don’t need to bite my head off, I was just checking.”
"We can manage Mr B,” Mand put in, "I used to have to do all my own mechanics before.”
"I can do stuff too,” I pouted. Okay, I don’t actually do more than punctures but its not like we have to literally take the bikes apart is it, its only wheels and stuff like the saddle really.

We talked for another few minutes, mostly Dad making sure we knew where stuff like the fuse box and stop cock are located. I doubt we’ll need to know but Dad was just being his usual thorough self. Eventually though my eyes reached the point of no return and the siren call of my own bed became irresistible.
 

Easter Monday, no college, I can lie in so why am I awake at silly o’clock? There was clearly some activity downstairs, the rents will be off this morning, me and Mand are going round to the bakery for a bit of an Angels reunion cum late Easter brunch. Its been organised for weeks, everyone’s coming so missing it isn’t an option. I dragged myself out of bed, did the necessities and made my way downstairs.

"Where’s Dad?”
"Down at the yard fetching your bike boxes for next week,” Mum advised looking up from the pasta she was draining, guess they’ll be having pasta salad for lunch later.
"You had breakfast?”
"We’ll get something when your Dad gets back, you sort yourself.”
"I’ll do it, we can at least all have breakfast together before you go.”
"Thanks kiddo.”

An hour later the four of us were sat at the dining table, well its a bit nicer than eating in the kitchen. We usually have the makings of a buffet fruhstück spread, emergency brötchen from the freezer and as its Easter, boiled eggs even if they aren’t decorated. We don’t often all sit down for breakfast together, we are all up and out at different times, doing different things so it was a bit of a novelty.

"I’ve put a list of your bike settings in the cases so Dieter can set them up when you get there.”
"Stop fussing Dad, we’ll work it out.”
"Dave?” Mum hinted.
"Eh, oh right, I’ve put you some money for expenses on the pinboard, you don’t have to spend it all but there’s enough to eat at the airports and so on.”
"Expenses, does that mean you want receipts?”
"It wouldn’t hurt,” Mum told us before Dad could answer.
 

"So you’re home alone for vierzehn Tage?“ Con repeated back.
"Yep, as of,“ i checked my watch, "Twenty minutes ago me and Mand are orphans.“

We weren’t the first to arrive at Thesings for our little soirrée, that honour went to Pia, Ing having dropped her off on the way to her own social gathering down in Bad Neuenahr, but neither were we the last as my currently carrot haired musical companion had yet to arrive.

"Nen is coming?“ Bridg asked.
"Said so last night,“ Pia confirmed, "Think her mums bringing her.“
"Anyone want coffee?“ our host enquired.

We were in the cafe rather than the apartment, well there’s not a lot of space up there and with the bakery closed, it is Easter Monday, it made more sense.

"That looks like her now,“ Mand stated, i know she’s not really one of the Ahr Angels but she did help at the market and anyhow, it would’ve been churlish not to invite her.
"Get the door someone,“ Con requested.

Given my experience working here i got up to do the honours, getting the portal open just as a flustered Mist reached it. We exchanged a quick hug as she came through.

"Sorry i’m late, some idiot put a whole toilet roll down one of the toilets which flooded the whole toilet block, talk about a mess.“
"Didn’t think you were working at the campsite anymore,“ Pia observed.
She gave a shrug, "Its a few extra euros, the place is heaving with it being the Easter holidays.“
"Maybe we should've opened the kiosk Con,“ i called over to my ‚partner‘ on that enterprise.
"Don’t think Kris would’ve been too happy.“
"I guess,“ i allowed.
"Come on then Nen, what’s with the hair and stuff,“ Bridg demanded.
 
And so it began. There was so much that Mist and i have shared over the last couple of weeks but there was also stuff we hadn’t and some that was best not distributed too freely. It all seemed a little surreal, here we all were, the five musketeers of Silverberg Gymnasium, the class of 2006 as the Americans would have it and for the first time that i remember there are secrets between us.

It was also a little disconcerting to see Misty in ‚normal‘ clothes, her hair has lost none of its vibrance in the last week whereas my pinkness has already lost the hardness it had. I guess i’ve become used to her new piercings much as my ‚tattoos‘ no longer catch my eye at every sight. The BlauHase tour remained the primary topic of conversation for most of our gathering but, like all good things our Easter gathering ground to an end, promises given, plans made.

"Oh nearly forgot,“ Pia started, "Dad wants to know who wants to work the tourist bus dinners.“
"When are they?“ Con enquired.
"Thursdays starting in three weeks, there might be some extras over the summer.“
"Count me in,“ Mand immediately told her, "Not like i have a burgeoning social calendar.“
"I should be okay too, put me down,“ i added.
"Might have to give it a miss, i don’t get back from college till late on Thurdsays,“ Con advised.

Living closest, Mand and i gave Con a hand with the clean up, it might not’ve been a chimps tea party but there were still crumbs and crockery.

"So what’re you guys doing the rest of the day?“
"Training,“ i told her with a bit of a sigh, "Up to the Ring and back.“
"Joy,“ Mand agreed.
"You fancy coming for dinner?“
"We shouldn’t impose,“ Mand told my friend.
"It would save me cooking,“ i put in, giving de Vreen a dirty look.
"You aren’t imposing, mum said to ask you when i told her you were on your own - and there’s a Tatort double as well.“
"Done!“

Mand just rolled her eyes, i guess you don’t have to like slightly cheesy police dramas.

"Food at seven, Tatort at eight,“ Con beamed.
"Come on then Mand, mountains to climb before then.“
 
And so we hurried back home, its best bit of eighty kilometres up to the Grand Prix circuit and back, best part of four hours riding even for us, so we’d best get a move on if we are going to make it to dinner. You can never be certain what Therese will dish up but there’s always plenty and washing up after is a small price to pay – and there’s always cake, it is a bakery after all!
 
Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
It felt a bit weird riding up the Ahrtal, something I’ve done countless times since we moved to the valley. Nothing has changed, the roads are the same, the traffic, my bike, all the same but everything just seemed slightly off, familiar yet not.

"Its gonna be weird riding without your dad around,” Mand proposed as we followed the river up through Mayschoß.
"We’ve done it before,” I pointed out.
"Yeah but not often, not since I came to Germany.”
"I guess.”
"You alright?”
"Yeah.”
"You just seem a bit distracted.”
"After the last couple of weeks, this,” I waved at our surroundings, "Is strange, guess it’ll take a couple of days to get back into the routine of the real world.”
"So you aren’t gonna swap bikes for mics then.”
"You kidding? This is much easier!”
"Oh come on, a couple of hours prancing about on a stage harder than a four hour session on a bike, pull the other one.”
"I didn’t say is was physically harder but I can do without all the travelling, sound checks, late nights, its not easy singing for a couple of hours you know.”
"Okay, you don’t have to bite my head off.”
"Soz, but I guess unless you’ve done it, I guess it might look easy. Race you to the tunnel.”

The ‘rock star’ lifestyle of the last couple of weeks hadn’t done my fitness too much harm, I have done some decent rides while I’ve been away and there was that race last week too. No, its not fitness per se that’s taken a hit, I can’t really put my finger on it but its a sort of dulling of my senses. Probably all that booze just taking the edge off.
 

"Which way back?”
"Eh?”
"Geez Bond, you’ve hardly said a thing on the way up.”
"Well I couldn’t get a word in,” I prevaricated.
"Har de har, so which way, straight down or over Ramersbach?”

I spared a look about me, boy, I really had been tuned out, we were already above Quiddelbach, we’d be passing under the Nordschleife in a matter of moments, the sound of high performance engines dopplered through the hillsides before a flash of colour surged across the bridge. It was true tho’, Mand had barely drawn breath since Altenahr, a diatribe of her life whilst I’ve been away. It wasn’t so much that I wasn’t interested, okay, who was seeing who at the English school isn’t high on my agenda of conversation topics, no I was kind of lost in my own thoughts.

"Ramersbach?” I offered.
“’kay, up the track?”

The track is an unofficial short cut that we sometimes use to miss the big junction where the two five eight and two five seven cross, its got a fairly good surface but you wouldn’t want to take a road bike through if its too wet. Today was dry though, the weather pundits were saying its the driest spring in forever, probably means we’ll have a wet summer.

"Works for me.”

I said it was rideable, I didn’t say it was the most comfortable surface to ride on but it was good practice for the Fleche I’ll be riding on Sunday with its steep climbs on cobbles. Okay, not quite the same as a dirt track at the top of a thirty K climb but it’ll have to do. The downside to using the short cut is the bit of CX you have to do to get back onto the road past the barrier at the top.

On the plus side is does avoid using the main road and we were soon on Hatzenbachstraße which takes you between the Grand Prix circuit and the Nordschleife directly into the village. Rather than the main road inside the circuit we took the lane through to Meuspath to avoid all the petrolheads going in and out of the circuit. Yeah, its a Bank Holiday so its a public track day, any one can turn up, pay the fee and drive around.

Our laney diversion cost us a bit of time but the way some of those morons drive, it was certainly safer. A loop through Döttingen put us on the four one two and we settled in for the climb over to Kempenich. Either I’ve lost form or Mand has improved a lot, by the time we reached Hohe Acht I was puffing a bit to keep level with her.

There was a bit of wind on our right shoulder as we crossed to Kempenich where it became a tailwind. Its eight or nine kilometres up to Ramersbach, a bit up and down rather than a single climb, I was more than glad that my companion seemed happy to ease off the gas a bit. The drop down to Ahrweiler is fast and twisty, especially with the wind pushing you, we got down safely before running the gauntlet of tourists in the Altstadt.
 

"Not bad, three thirty.”
"Its got to be later than that,” Mand opined.
"Not the time, the ride.”
"We’re not back yet,” my companion pointed out.
I gave a shrug, "Five minutes?”
"More like ten.”
"Still not bad with the detour at the top.”
"I guess.”

She guesses, I know so, the best I’ve ever done on this loop, without the detours, is three hours twenty five when I was really pinging last summer.

"So what do you reckon we’ll get for dinner?”
"No idea, something traditional if I know Therese.”
"Schnitzel?”
"I doubt it, might have to have a snack when we get in mind.”
"No chocolate, you’ll spoil your tea.”
"Yes mum!”
 

You’d think an hour, well closer to two would be plenty to shower, dress and walk a couple of hundred metres right? Guess again, it was ten to seven when we got back to Thesings, where the time went I couldn’t say but it might’ve been my decision to reprise Saturday’s stage outfit. Why I hear you ask, goodness knows, must’ve been the devil in me, but that meant Mand decided her jeans and sweatshirt weren’t up to scratch – well you know what its like.

I know I wore basically the same stuff on stage on Saturday but strolling through my home town in a dress that exposed as much as it covered including my latex underwear and limbs apparently covered in tattoos was a bit nerve wracking if truth be told. My hair was in the high pony, my fringe lacquered in place although my braiding skills meant I’d foregone that bit of Saturdays coiffeur. And of course my makeup ability is quite pedestrian so I’d just gone for dark lippy, lots of massy and drawn some dramatic brows on – maybe I should practice a bit more.
 

"You didn’t need to dress up,” Con stated, "Its only a family dinner.”
"I know but I just fancied making an effort.”
"And I couldn’t let her walk the streets like that alone,” Mands added.
"Pappa will have a heart attack.”
"That guy did ride his mofa into the kerb just now,” de Vreen supplied
"Shoulda been concentrating more,” I suggested as we made our way through to the apartment stairs.
"He was – on you.”
"I guess you either have it or not,” I stated airily.
"You, Gaby Bond, have it in buckets,” my BFF noted.

Herr T didn’t have a heart attack but I’m sure his wife kicked him a couple of times under the table. Clearly the presence of Erdbeer, rock chick at his dining table did something that plain old Gaby doesn’t. I guess it made me feel, I dunno, empowered in a way that felt, well empowering.

Dinner was stroganoff, flat pasta, creamy sauce and nearly as dangerous to eat as spag bol! It was well tasty, I’m sure there was alcohol in there and fresh baked garlic bread worked a treat for mopping up, yum. It certainly filled the hole left by our ride up to the Ring, I was quite sated but I’ll make room for dessert, good job this dress has a bit of stretch.

"So Gaby, is this the new you?” Therese enquired while Tomas fetched the dessert.
I gave a shrug, "I don’t think so, I just thought I’d see what it was like off stage?”
"You wore that with your band?”
"I did say moma,” Con put in.
"You said she had a short dress and boots, you didn’t mention the rest.”
"Well I didn’t see that well.”
"And the tattoo Gaby?”
"Just temporary, they wash off after a few days.”
"I like them,” Herr T mentioned returning to the table with what looked very much like a Schwarzwaldkirschetorte, Black Forest gateaux, cherries, chocolate and cream, the three c’s of mana!

"I bet your parents weren’t happy if they thought you had real tattoos,” Mrs T opined as the cake was distributed.
"They didn’t actually say very much about them, not like before when Mum thought I got one.”
"When was that?” Con asked.
"You remember, when those chokers were all the rage?”
"I had one of those,” Mand chipped in.
"Well Mum went completely ape before I could show her it was just a bit of plastic.”
"Bit of an over reaction,” Con noted.
"Tell me about it, she had me grounded until Dad intervened.”
"Some people just don’t like tattoos,” Therese mentioned.
"I thought she was going to blow big style when she saw these,” I admitted, turning my arms to better display the art I was wearing.
"Maybe she was in shock,” Mand surmised, "You know, too shocked to say anything.”
"Possibly,” I allowed.
 

The double bill of Tatort meant that it was gone ten thirty when we left the backhaus, Herr T insisting on walking us home. I’ve made the journey so many times, maybe I’ve become complacent, tonight, dressed like a goth wet dream, well I was kind of grateful. That night in Kassel, well I guess it brought home to me how vulnerable young women can be, especially late at night.
 

I hugged my cardigan a bit closer, whilst the sky above was clear and the vineyards above the town were bathed in sunlight, down in the valley there was a distinct chill in the air. Logic said that a coat would be a good idea but I didn’t want to lumber myself for the day. On the plus side, whilst I’d briefly toyed with going all rock chick for college today in the end I’d settled on a denim skirt and hose with a BlauHase t-shirt and of course the cardigan on top, pink to match my hair. I gave an involuntary shudder, come on Olaf its freezing waiting here.

My transport wasn’t actually late, for once I was running early. Without the distractions of one or other of my parents in the house and Mand departing even earlier for her train, well I found myself just killing time, something I could do more sensibly at my pick up point.

The journey down to Koblenz was, for once, unremarkable. If anything the traffic on the autobahn was lighter than usual, even the usual stop go into the city centre seemed less frenetic.

"We meeting later?” Max asked as we walked from Olaf’’s work place towards our respective colleges across the Stadtmitte.
"Expect so, I’ll send you an SMS lunchtime.”
“’kay, see you later.”
"Come here,” I pulled him down for a kiss, as long kiss.
"Get a room you two,” Freddy complained.
"Your only jealous,” Max retorted.
"If you say so, come on, we’ll be late.”
"Go on, speak later,” I told my boyfriend before snatching a last peck on his cheek.

I hurried towards the college, if I’m lucky I can grab a coffee before I go into this mornings tutorial.
 

"Gaby! A word?” Lisbet hinted as I gathered my stuff, preoccupied with thoughts of lunch.
"Er sure, coffee?”

It’s almost a ritual between us now, since I sorted her out with some decent coffee and fixed her machine, I get coffee that’s drinkable rather than the sludge available in the common room.

"So,” my senior lecturer started once we were settled in her office with cups of hot java, "How was life as a rock star?”
I blew on my coffee, "Hardly a star.”
"Not what I’ve been hearing.”
Ignoring her comment I went on, "It was okay I guess, hard work that’s for sure.”
"I thought you just swanned up and sang.”

The glint in her eye suggested she was goading me.

Of course, I bit, "If only! Travelling every day, setting up, soundchecks, day after day.”
"Don’t you have lackeys for all that?”
"Not on our budget, some of the venues have stage hands but its mostly down to the band.”
"So come on, you haven’t answered my question, what was it like?”
"Truth? I wouldn’t want to do it full time but it was good fun I guess.”
"You won’t be hanging up your wheels and abandoning us then?”
"You don’t get rid of me that easily.”
"I see you got tattoos?”
"They're not real,” I reassured her.
"I thought perhaps not,” she scribbled something on a note pad, "That sort of thing is a bit taboo in hospitality, especially in management.”
"Can’t see as it affects peoples work, I’ve seen plenty of cooks and wait staff with tattoos, well some.”
"Me too but they tend to not get positions in management and front of house, its all to do with image, just like your band. That’s especially true in corporate, its not the wholesome clean cut image they want to project, short order cook out of sight, fine, maitre d, not going to happen.”
"Its the twenty first century, you’d think we’d got past that sort of thinking, I thought we got jobs on merit not looks these days.”
"You can legislate for equality all you like and in some arenas it works, others, well we might be breaking gender bias but business image, being at the edge of societal norms may have personal costs beyond hair dye prices.”
"So if everyone had tattoos or green hair, they’d be acceptable?”
"It would be ‘normal’ so customers would find it strange if they were excluded.” Lisbet stated.
"I guess you can have tats somewhere you can hide them for work.”
"And many people do, I do see a change in attitudes in the industry but I would caution anyone to think carefully about getting tattoos or even piercings if they want to do well in this business.”
"I’ve got quite enough piercings thank you,” I told her, yeah and not a one at my own instigation.
"Having said all that, I’m not so keen on the cartoons but the flowers do look really good on you.”
"Er thanks, I’m sort of getting used to the look but I’ve got no intention of making any of it permanent.”

We talked for about an hour all told, about the tour in more general terms, my observations of our various accommodations and so on, it wasn’t officially a tutorial but I found it quite useful.

"Well I’ve got another class to take and you probably want to get some lunch.”

Right on cue my stomach gave a rumble.

"Er yeah,” I agreed.
"I have a little project for you.”

Ot oh!

"Which is?”
"I’d like you to pick out say half a dozen of the hotels you stayed in on the tour and imagine you are from corporate, do a short report on your impressions, what was good, bad, the staff, décor, maintenance. You up for that?”
"I guess.”
"Next Monday? I’d like to use it for a group discussion, it’ll be worth some extra credits.”
"In that case, definitely.”
 

I nibbled at my sandwich, frikadel with salad, not my favourite but it was either that or egg mayo which was all that was left at the student cafe when I got there. It was a nice day, too nice to sit inside so I made the short walk to the river front where I was now sat watching the river traffic and the trains running below the Ehrensburg on the opposite hillside. Today felt, well ordinary.

After spending two weeks chasing around Hesse, just sitting here watching the world go by was, yeah, ordinary – not that there’s anything wrong with ordinary. Around me people were following their normal routines, walking dogs, encouraging tourists to part with their money for boat trips, tacky souvenirs, ice cream. And behind me the sounds of the city, refuse carts, a siren, the hum of traffic, the clatter of construction work.

My musing was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of my handy which, by the time I located it, was a missed call from Max. Max, sugar, I was supposed to call him!
 
Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
"Two weeks?” Max repeated.
"At least,” I confirmed.
"Just you and Amanda?”
"I said didn’t I.”

We hadn’t had this conversation this morning because, well its not very private in Olaf’s car is it?

"So party time then,” he enthused.

I had wondered how long it would take to bring that idea to the surface.

"Ut uh, no parties, loud music or house burning, Mum was very specific.”
"What about boyfriends?”
"Not mentioned.”
"So we could…”
"We could.”
"I hear a but coming,” von Strechau mentioned.
"Mand’s still gonna be around.”
"And? She’s seen us kissing before.”
"Er yeah.”
"So what’s the problem? Hang on, you thought I meant…”
"Er maybe,” I admitted dropping my voice so the rest of the carriage couldn’t hear.
"Well I guess we could.”
"No, no, kissing's fine, really.”

What am I saying? Did I just suggest that we, well do It? Get a grip Bond, you’re seventeen, an adult, if you want to take that step just say so. The question is, do I? I know its a perfectly normal thing to do but it still feels, well wrong. I know I’m a fully paid up member of the fairer sex but, well you know my history, I guess I’ve still got some issues.

And Max, well he’s never pushed me to do anything, its me that’s instigated things, allowed things to get to where we are. And where are we? I guess we’re a couple, scrub that, we are a couple, boyfriend, girlfriend, we kiss, we cuddle we sometimes indulge in a bit of, well, second base. And I guess I’m fine with that, I’m just not sure about taking that final step into womanhood.

"We could do a bit of practice before we get to Remagen?”

I glanced out of the window, we were just departing Echternach.

"You’re seat or mine?”
 

"Hello, Gaby?”
"Speaking.”
“ Frank Obermayer, from the BDR?”
"Oh hi.”

I’d been expecting his call but even so I was thrown a little.

"I spoke to your father, about the weekend?”
"Er yeah, I was just doing some college stuff.”
"Well I won’t keep you long, I’ll pick you up myself, if you can be ready for two, we’ll meet the others at Lűttich, have a look at the route and hopefully you can have a ride up the Mur de Huy before we go to the accommodation.”
"Two, on Saturday?”
"Yeah, any problem?”
"Er no, just thought with it being so close we’d be travelling on Sunday.”
"Close for you, some of us have a bit further to travel.”
"Yeah, I wasn’t thinking.”
"If there’s any change I’ll give you a call.”
"I’ll give you my Handy number, in case I’m not at the house.
 

I put the phone down and returned to the lounge where de Vreen was still watching MTV.

"That’s put a spanner in things,” I sighed, dropping onto my end of the sofa.
"What’s that?”
"Well you know Sunday?”
"You’re racing in Belgium? It cancelled?”
"Well its only just past Aachen, I thought we’d be travelling over Sunday morning.”
"But you’re going Saturday instead, so what’s the problem?”
"Yeah, the problem is I said I’d work at the kiosk Saturday.”
"Bummer, can someone else cover?”
"Probably but that’s not the point really, every time I say I’ll be there something comes up.”
 

The rest of the week had less drama thankfully, I swapped my Saturday at the kiosk with Kris so instead of my ‘free’ day on Friday, I don’t have to go in to college for lectures on Fridays, I’ll be at the Kabin. Maybe I should make that a regular thing, at least those weeks I’ve said I’ll work.

And me and Max never got our ‘make out’ session at Bond Acres, news of our ‘home alone’ status quickly got around, we got dinner invites for both Wednesday and Thursday. Wednesday it was Max’s place and no I didn’t reprise my stage outfit again, his gran would’ve had conniptions, no I was quite demure for the evening! We did manage a few minutes out in the courtyard but I felt a bit guilty leaving Mand to the mercies of the Baroness.

Then on Thursday we ended up at our sometime employers place, the Sebenschuh restaurant and Weinstube. I think its the first time I’ve eaten there with the family, its usually either a girls night in the cellars or with my family in the restaurant. Not that we ate in the family house, we were in the restaurant but it was a quiet night and the only customers sharing the room were drinking rather than eating so needed minimal attention.

Which only left Friday, Mand came up to Altenahr from school and we ate in the Krone before getting the Ahrtal express back to Dernau. I know it might seem a bit extravagant but I never want to cook after spending a day over a hot erm, hotplate and given we’ve not spent anything all week, well I think we deserved a treat.

And the Rents, well we had a call each evening but given the girls were doing a training block ahead of a busy week of racing, there wasn’t really much to say so the calls were quite short.
 

"Any idea what time you’ll get back?” Mand asked as I enjoyed a lazy breakfast.
"Shouldn’t be too late, its only a couple of hours away, you thinking food?”
"Partly, you could be back before me.”
"I guess, I’ll nip around to the shop after this and pick up a few bits so we’ve got options.”
“’kay.”
"You all sorted?”
"Think so, I’m meeting the lads at Dusseldorf station, Josh’s uncle’s bringing them down and picking me from there, bit of a faff, I have to get the first Express down to Remagen, there’s a through train just after seven.”
"Guess we’ll be slumming it in some grotty b&b as the Federation are paying.”
"Gift horses and all that.”
"Yeah, I suppose we get spoilt a bit on Appollinaris’ tab.”
"Well some of us have training to do, if I’m not back, have a good ride tomorrow.”
"I’ll be riding later,” I told her, it wont be her four hour jobby but its still riding, "Enjoy the Wupper.”
 

By twelve o’clock I was chomping at the bit, with no one to watch over my preparations I’d checked and rechecked that I had everything. Helmet – check, licence – check, shoes – check, well you get the idea, given my previous record with these things it was essential. Of course I’m not riding for Appollinaris this week, instead its for my country, well the one that now claims my allegiance, I’m not sure what kit I’m supposed to wear so I’ve got my team strip in my bag just in case.

I put everything by the door – after checking it all again and picked up the project that Lisbet wanted me to do. I’ve spent a fair bit of time on it this week, well if its worth extra credits its a no brainer right? I must’ve got a bit lost in it because the rap on the door made me jump out of my skin.

"Coming!”

I slipped my Birkenstocks on, turned off the hi-fi and headed for the door.

"Er sorry, I was miles away,” I told Frank as I opened the door.
"No problem, I’m a little early, all ready?”
"Yep, checked and double checked,” I stated heaving the bag onto the step, just need to lock up.”
"Okay, I’ll take this down.”

Two minutes later and I was down on the drive, my bag already on the back seat with I presume Frank’s and a load of federation stuff.
"That’s me,” I beamed, "All ready to go.”
"Forgotten something?”
"Nope, all checked present and correct, all in the case.”
"You’re father did warn me,” he mentioned with a bit of a smile.
"What?”
"How you get very focussed – which is a good thing, so where are we going?”
"Er Lűttich?”
"To?” he prompted.
"Ride the Fleche Wallone.”
"On?”

He’s worse than Dad with his cryptic questions.

"Er bikes,” the pebble finally dropped, the reason he was stood by the open tailgate of the two fifty T, "Shitza!”

Yep, I’d remembered everything except my bike!

"Sorry, sorry, its just in the bike cave.”

As luck would have it Mand arrived back during this conversation which meant I didn’t need to find my keys again.

"So what’ve you forgotten this time?” she asked as we waited for the shutter to go up.
"Nothing.”
"Really?” the raised eyebrow suggested she didn’t buy that for one minute.
"Well not forgotten exactly,” I suggested.

Of course she spotted my bike almost immediately, still in the stand with the wheels stacked underneath.

"Really Gab?”
"It was an oversight, grab the wheels for us,” I blustered.
"If you say so,” she smirked, no doubt the world and its friends will know before I get to Belgium.

I released the bike, sans wheels from the stand and followed de Vreen back out to the Mercedes where Frank had a nest of old blankets waiting.

"That was easy,” he allowed, settling the two pairs of wheels on top, "I often have to drop the saddle to get them in.”
"It is an XS,” Mand pointed out.
"That’ll be it,” Frank agreed, "Come on Fraulein Bond, now we’ve got everything, we should make a move.”

"Have a good ride,” Mand called out as Frank edged out of the driveway.
"And you,” I replied with a wave.
 

"Can do without this,” Frank mentioned as we passed the old border crossing, ‘this’ being an incessant drizzle that we’d run into shortly after the Kreauz Aachen five minutes ago.
"Yeah,” I agreed.

We hadn’t spoken much on the way, Frank having a very intense driving style and me not really having anything to say. Despite a bit of traffic at the Kerpen Kreuz, when isn’t there, we’ve only been going for just over an hour. Frank was following one of those GPS things which provided some entertainment and soon enough it was suggesting we leave the motorway at the next junction.

Virtually as soon as we slowed and negotiated the junction, the wet eased to a few spots, maybe it wasn’t as wet as it seemed.

"We’re meeting the others at some sports centre.”
"Is that where it starts?”
"No, you get to start in the city, it’ll be neutral until you clear the mitte.”
"Right.”

The road was tracking the river, the Meuse or Maas depending where you are, through a bleak, grey landscape of industrial wasteland and docks, barges moored in ranks along the far bank. We looped over some sort of canal, the GPS almost immediately announcing that we were at our destination.

"That was easy,” my chauffeur noted.
"Yeah,” I agreed, okay, miss chatterbox I’m not, well not at the moment.
"And there’s our bus,” I was informed as we pulled in behind an older Mercedes minibus with a fairly big trailer tagged behind.
 

"You made it then,” Tali opined as I followed Frank up into the BDR bus a couple of minutes later.
"Yeah, thought I’d best put in an appearance.”
"Humble as ever,” Gret put in.
"Of course. Hi Izz, Liezel.”

Izzy, Isolde Beyer and Liezel Böhm are the rest of this weekends team Izz comes from near Ulm and Liezel lives somewhere near Regensburg, like my regular team mates they flew to Brussels this morning where they were picked up from by Andreas our federation mechanic and Matty our ‘Girl Friday’ for the weekend. After the introductions, Frank went over the days programme.
 

“… everyone okay with that?”
"Wait for it,” Tali stage whispered.
"Er Frank,” I started, "Do we eat soon?”

I’m sure I saw monies being passed towards a grinning Thalia Schmidt.

"Matty?” Frank queried.
"Now?”
"Seems as good a time as any,” our leader stated.

Matty fumbled around with the large cool box that shared her seat then started handing out bakery style bags.

"They’re only supermarket sandwiches I’m afraid, they hadn’t got much choice.”
"We’ll have better for tomorrow girls,” Frank stated giving his assistant a Paddington stare.
"For sure and a good meal this evening too,” the poor girl advised.
 

I think the others were as hungry as me, certainly the contents of the bags didn’t last long, they weren’t actually that bad. I got mozzarella and tomato with the usual lump of lettuce to fill it out a bit, not exactly race food but it filled a hole, all that was missing was coffee. I guess you can’t expect miracles.

Andreas meanwhile had been quite busy, the trailer was now behind Frank’s estate car, he and Matty were going directly to Huy where we’d meet them to collect our bikes for a spin around the finish circuit.. It felt somewhat similar but nevertheless different to how we do things with Apollinaris but the endgame was the same, hopefully success on the roads of Belgium tomorrow.

Of course we are doing an abbreviated version of the course, something like sixty kilometres through the forests and fields between Lúttich and Huy then a thirty five kilometre circuit the same as the seniors use except they do two laps after a much longer approach. Its not the hilliest bit of the world but nor is it flat and I think we were all a bit surprised at the steepness of a couple of bits. I’m sure Dad would’ve been waxing lyrical about the grades, the length, the surface but Frank was clearly more hands off.

By the time we made our rendezvous at Huy the damp had cleared, the early evening looking to be the best of a slightly grotty day. It was about half five when we set of for our lap with instructions to take it steady, its not a race this evening after all. The last time we all rode in the same event was in last year’s Nationals down in Bavaria although we have crossed paths at other times, just not all together.

Five is always an awkward number but we soon settled into a single rotation which gave everyone time alongside everyone else. Of course I know Tal and Gret’s strengths and weaknesses but the other two were unknown quantities. Oh they’re obviously decent riders to get selected but are they climbers, sprinters or what?

We stayed as a group quite nicely over the first two summits, the first a bit of a drag, the second a more punchy affair which left what will be the final climb of tomorrows race, first one to the top the winner. I’ve read the race reports, on a good day you can power up the twenty percent cobbles at the top, a bad day and you could be struggling to walk up the greasy surface. I remembered Mum’s advice, right hand gutter, the long way around is smoother.

The crowd barriers were already out and after a jiggle past the closure barrier we were on the famous climb. The first part is quite benign then the tarmac changes to setts, the road narrows and turns right as it starts to ramp up. I flicked down a sprocket to keep the cadence higher before hitting the turbo and accelerating towards the sharp left at the base of the wall.

Another click dropped the chain onto the inner ring at the front, a brief over rev then I was on the wall itself. The cobbles were still a bit damp which caused some loss of traction but Mum was right, the right side gutter was much better than the main carriageway. The steep bit is only about fifty metres before it starts to ease off but I was well into oxygen debt by then.

The road started to widen a bit as I struggled for air, finally getting on top of demand on the false flat that makes up the last hundred metres. Up a gear, another, no chance to change the chainring, final effort and I was across the line. I pulled up to the barriers and grabbed hold, my legs and lungs screaming from the effort.

It could’ve been seconds or minutes, but eventually more bodies joined me, each doing their own version of oxygen grab. Tomorrow is gonna be hard, this finale was bad on my own, with a whole bunch squeezing up, it’ll be a nightmare. Frank hasn’t given us a race plan yet but I think I know what I’d like to do.
 
Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
"Okay ladies,” Frank started, poking his head into the bus's side door, "Lets get you to the accommodation, we’ll discuss things after dinner.” Whatever ‘things’ are.

By the time we’d finished putting tracky tops on, Andreas and Matty had the bikes loaded in the trailer and we set off into the now fading evening.
 

I was expecting we’d be in some chain place, probably in Liege but instead we followed Frank for about, I dunno, twenty kilometres to some little two horse town where we pulled up outside of what looked like a bar. To be honest I hadn’t been paying much attention as to our whereabouts, well you know what its like when a bunch of girls are together. Anyhow, we waited for a few minutes before our leader beckoned us inside.

The others grabbed their bags and we made our way to the somewhat rustic looking drinking emporium, the inside matched the exterior as we stepped directly into a bar, all dark wood, polished brass and coloured glass. Our arrival raised some curious looks from the bar clientele, the use of German clearly marking us as foreign but their Chimay or whatever they were drinking soon grabbed their attention back.

"Along to the end girls, Jean Claude will sort out your rooms, back down for dinner at eight, I’ll pop your bag in Gaby.”

"Er thanks.”
 

"This is a bit bijou,” Tali suggested as I caught up to the others at the inner end of the bar.
"No kidding.”

Indeed, it reminded me somewhat of that old British sitcom ‘Allo, Allo’. Okay we’re in Belgium not France and its 2007 not 1943 but even so I had to resist the temptation to say zis only once! Even Jean Claude would fit right in with his exuberant ‘tache.

They speak some sort of French in this part of Belgium but we managed to converse enough to get our rooms and directions to the back room where we’d be eating. If downstairs was straight from the last century, upstairs the bedrooms were clearly recently refurbished. Okay, mine was a bit pokey but the ensuite was as big as mine at home and the décor was bright and cheerful, maybe it was because of my size that I had the single as the others were sharing somewhat larger rooms.

First order of business was a shower, eight o’clock being somewhat less than an hour away. The ‘tattoos’ on my lower arms had mostly come off now but those higher up and on my legs were still fairly intact. By the time I was dry my forearms were clear and I realised that there was only the merest tinge of the pink hair dye left in my locks.

At least we don’t have to wear some daft team uniform just to get dinner, even so I still have an image to uphold. And no, that doesn’t mean I packed the new stage costume to wear. Nope, my ‘best’ denim skirt and a plain scoop neck lavender t shirt were tonight's wardrobe choice, the added benefit being they don’t crease easily unlike that damn Apollinaris dress.
 

Probably because i wasn’t sharing the facilities or perhaps it was my insatiable appetite, but I was the first one down to the dining room. I say dining room, it was a room and we’ll be eating in it but it was more like an extension of the bar right down to the cast iron tables and chairs and accessed through a pair of curtained glass doors. Several tables had been pushed together and laid for eating and in one corner was one of those easel things.

I took a seat and helped myself to a glass of water then tried to identify the intriguing smells coming from, I presume the kitchen.

"There you are, we were knocking on your door,” Gret announced as the rest of Team Deutschland burst in.
"Thought I’d come straight down as I was ready.”
"So where are these tattoos, the way Manda spoke you looked like some Biker,” Tali advised.
"As if, they’re only temporary and they’re wearing off,” I pulled up a sleeve, ”see?”

Well of course they all wanted a look.

"So why?” Liezel waved vaguely at my arm.
"She’s in a rock band,” Gret gushed, "Blau something.”
"Hase,” I filled in.
"Oh mein gott, you were on the radio last Saturday, the live concert.”
"Guilty as charged, I’m only the singer.”
"Only she says,” Tali opined with a roll of her eyes.
"On a technical level,” Gret put in.
"You guys really rocked,” Liezel enthused.
"Er thanks.”

Well you can guess that the dinner conversation ended up being centred on my musical career rather than our purpose for being here. Dinner, despite the exciting smells, was pretty mundane but it was tasty and filling. Rustic minestrone soup was followed by grilled chicken with pasta and green salad, lastly a half decent slice of custard tart was eagerly consumed before coffee was delivered, no silly little cup each but a couple of thermos jugs full.
 
Frank rattled a spoon against his cup to get our attention.

"Ladies, I hope you enjoyed dinner but now its time to talk business. The Fleche Wallone, the Wallone Arrow, tomorrow, as you know, is the first under eighteen girls event under this banner so there is no historical data for us to plan with. Instead we have to look at the professional race to help guide our tactics.

In recent years, despite some tweeks from the organisers, it has always ended with a mass scramble on the Mur, it doesn’t matter how good you are, get behind the wrong rider and your chances are gone. And the men have over two thirty kilometres before the finale, you on the other hand have just ninety five so I think most observers expect a similar outcome tomorrow.

Having driven the course this afternoon I personally can’t see how we can change that unless any of you have any ideas?”

"There are some early climbs, escape on one of those around say sixty K and you could stay away,” Izzy suggested.
"It’s never worked with the men,” Frank pointed out.
"But their race is much longer,” Tali mentioned.
"And their field is much bigger,” Gret added.
"Have you got a map of the course?” I asked.
"Matty, if you would,” Frank requested.

Matty located the relevant sheet of paper from the directors pack and clipped it to the easel.

I stood up to get a good look at the full route, its one thing to drive it, quite another to see exactly where it takes you. Along the bottom was a profile, it took me a moment to work out the relationship between the two.

"What’re you thinking Bond?” Gret enquired.
I moved so the others could see the board. "So if we went with Izzy’s suggestion we’d be looking at making a move about here,” I pointed to where the race would pass through Huy before starting the circuit, "We climb up out of the town then the last three climbs are all within twenty K, the problem is this bit,” I traced the route on the map, "Ten kilometres of pretty much downhill, a little blip then its flat into the final climb. To stay away from a motivated bunch you’d need more than a few seconds advantage.”
"Which is why it always comes to a packed finish,” Liezel observed.
"Exactly. Frank, what were you going to suggest?”
"Play it for the finish, essentially make sure we deliver you as our favourite to the Mur in the best condition and position possible.”
"Which is what everyone will be expecting, they’ll all be having this same conversation tonight and coming to the same conclusions.”
"So maybe there is no way to beat this finale,” Frank concluded.
"Maybe,”
"Gaby,” Tali warned.
"Hear me out,” I pressed, "This first bit is actually hillier than the finish circuit, up, down,” I traced the climbs on the map, "Up, down but the interesting thing is that the climbs are longer than the descents like going the wrong way up a slide.”
"Which mean’s?” Izzy prompted.
"I’ve got it,” Gret told the room, "It favours a small group rather than a big peloton.”
"Exactly,” I concurred, "Get away back here somewhere and you could potentially get a big enough gap to get you around the circuit.”
"How much are you thinking Gaby?” Frank enquired.
I thought for a moment before answering, "Two minutes?”
"That’s a big ask,” the boss observed, "What if you don’t have that much we are still left with the lick of the Mur.”
"Well that’s the beauty of going early, if the gap isn’t big enough at the break point there’s still enough road to consolidate things for a bunch finish, we should plan for both scenarios.”

So that’s what we spent the next forty minutes doing, I’m not going to give you the details, after all, if we are in Renés Café the walls may well have ears! After five nights in my own bed it felt strange being in another bed again but despite that I slept well.
 

The race doesn’t start until eleven but despite that I was up with the larks. Matty had distributed our race jerseys last night, as I pulled mine on I couldn’t help thinking that the layout of the standard strip was intended to make my own rainbow bands less obvious. Yeah, whilst its nice to have the stripey jersey it does make you something of a target, especially when its an international field, everyone wants to take down the champ right?

The BDR might not be as rich as BC but that doesn’t mean they are backward, our breakfast for example was pretty much in line with what I’d expect riding for the UK. We’ve all got our little morning quirks, sports men / women probably more than most. For me its less about the exact food or even timing than the doing and part of the doing is my stretches – a hangover from my cheerleading endeavours.

"You ready Gabs?” Tal called through the door.
"Two minutes,” I replied.
"She’ll be five,” I heard the traitor tell someone.

Whatever, I gently brought my leg back around from the extended split I’d been holding before counting through ten horizontal dips. Mindful of the time I left it there, okay it was nearer five than two minutes when I presented my case and self at the bus.

Seeing everyone, Matty and Andreas included, in federation trackies tweaked my patriotic button a bit, so okay I used to ride for GB but for the last year and more I’ve been German, that’s what it says on my passport, that’s who I rode for in Kanada last year to get the stripey jerseys. It may have been political at the time but the way things are going with my life I can’t see me going back for more than a visit at least anytime soon.
 

The Belgians are well known for their passion for cycle racing, the great Eddy Merckx is of course Belgian, the joke is that he’s the only famous Belgian who isn’t fictional, the others in the frame being Tintin and Poirot. I’m sure there are others but I defy you to name them without looking it up. Anyhow, what I’m getting at is that even a race with a field of about sixty under eighteen girls had a good crowd at the Lűttich start with all the bells and whistles, team presentations, speeches, the whole shebang. Of course, as reigning World Champion I get to be singled out not just with a dodgy interview (my French really is terrible) but by wearing number one on my back.

Eventually we all lined up, the red, yellow and black flag waved, a klaxon sounded and in a cacophany of brakes and cleats snapping in, we set off from the Place de la Cathédrale. Of course the field is mostly made up of national teams, I even recognised a few riders but it was weighted towards domestic riders with both a Flemish and Wallonie team alongside the Belgian national team. They will be a distinct danger, the potential for all fifteen of them to ride together is huge and will be impossible to control.

We processed under the neutral flag through the city centre, across the Meuse only getting the green flag as we crossed the river for a second time. The Commisar accelerated ahead and as usual a few chancers chased up the road only to swiftly be swallowed up after their few metres of fame. My girls all stayed close, the draggy climb over the railway put off any more leg stretchers for the moment, I looked around, its far too early for any serious move, after all, its over ninety K to the finish.

Leaving the others policing the front I eased sideways and played with my gears, not out of need but purely for effect. Change, freewheel, look down, flap the lever a bit, look down, change back, stand up, sit down – it was all for show of course, there was certainly nothing wrong with my Pinarello. The idea of course was to sow the seed that I did have an issue to the rest of the field.

Just as we’d planned, Liezel dropped back and we continued the charade with her looking at my bike and leaning closer for a quick chat before heading back to the front. I played with things again before drifting back a bit further.

"Problem?”
"Gears are a bit jumpy,” I allowed recognising her as Vroni Sternimann, one of the Swiss girls.
"Sounds okay at the moment,” she noted.
"Yeah, it only does it when I give it some welly.”
"Good luck with that.”
"Yeah,” I allowed with a sigh.

I slipped a bit further down the field, Vroni wasn’t shy in sharing her gossip, I’m sure by the time I settled in next to Laura Burke riding for the BC squad most of the field knew I had an issue.

"Didn’t expect to see you here?”
"Scraping the barrel,” she opined, "Its a wonder they’ve even sent a team, they’re so up it with the track riding but hey, I get a free trip to Belgium.”
"I didn’t see who else is here.”
"Don’t think you know any of them, Rachel only started racing last year.”
"Any good?”
"Okay but no experience.”
I took a chance, "Well I’m going for a ride in a few, I’m sure Tal and Gret would like to see you all at the front.”
She took the hint, "It’ll be good to see them again.”
I purposely fluffed the gears again, "Flippin’ bike,” I complained loudly.

I continued to dawdle at the back, Laura no doubt suggesting a position at the head of affairs would be better than languishing at the back marshalled the Brits forward. Whilst there were still houses lining the road, there were glimpses of fields behind, not far until we’re out in the country, time for me to make a move. One of the Danes was moving up so I slipped onto her wheel as she headed towards the front of, I have to say, a quite sedate bunch.
 

A couple more gear fluffs as I reached the front half didn’t go unnoticed, no one seemed concerned that the Weltmeisterin was back, now in a sea of mostly white jerseys. I waggled my fingers at Liezel, our agreed sign, before taking a slug from my bidon, There isn’t a feed today but we can resupply from team cars but even so, I need to ration my intake a bit.

I slid sideways again so I had clear road to use, a rare roundabout interrupted things a little but then we were on a wide dual carriageway. The commisar accelerated ahead a bit more, a lot of flag waving and whistling announced a turn. As the field started braking for the corner I let myself run on a bit, just dabbing the brakes lightly before swooping across the front.

The extra momentum came in handy as I stomped on the pedals all the way to the next corner just a hundred metres further on. It was another hundred and twenty degree turn, I used all the road to get around barely skipping a pedal stroke. I wasn’t at full gas but not far off, another corner and the slight dip let me select the eleven.

Well this is it, I’ll soon know if its working, if not, well there’s always plan B. The map showed this stretch to be a bit kinky, the fact was that it was more than a bit, good job I’d been paying attention yesterday. Being on my own was a definite advantage as the road twisted downwards and the comp edged over fifty kph and even if the peloton was wise to me, it’d be nigh on impossible for anyone to set off in pursuit until things levelled off.

I got down into an aero tuck, any pedalling was purely for balance at these speeds, it might not be steep but a good road surface meant it was fast. The road straightened, those behind must be able to see me and I’ve not heard the service come up so I’m still under thirty seconds up. Brake lights on the car in front alerted me to the need to scrub speed, I grabbed a bit too much rear but just caught it before it locked into a skid, not good for me or the tyre.

The road levelled after the bend, I kept going full gas, l know it sounds daft but I can rest a bit on the climb that’s coming up. Another dodgy turn put me onto the climb, the neutral motorbike joining me metres later, the passenger showed me the board, “43, well its heading the right way. These Belgian climbs aren’t overly steep, you need to pace yourself and find the right gear, you certainly don’t want to try churning big gears, might work for Josh but lil ole me, not gonna happen.

I found my comfort point and concentrated on keeping it smooth, a couple of short pitches had me out of the saddle but the motorbike was still with me as I made the summit and started a less frenzied descent than the first one. Instinct is to look behind but I resisted the urge and ploughed on. The computer clicked over twenty kilometres as I passed under some random bit of motorway apparently going south towards Bastogne and Luxembourg.

Another draggy climb, the road straight as the race name for a couple of kilometres, my motorised companion came up with another time check 2 @ “11 P @ ‘1 “20. looks like I’ll have some company soon. If they are to be any help I need them as fresh as possible, I eased back slightly and reached for a snack.
 
Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
I squeezed the last of my energy bar into my mouth, blackcurrant flavour if you must know, just as I was overhauled. I wasn’t too surprised to see Lotte Kapenky, one of the Belgians followed by a Swiss girl that I couldn’t put a name to. They rode straight through, I easily slotted on the back, clearly they weren’t here just to close me down.

There were more options now, it’s not a simple go / stop scenario anymore, there’s now more chance of getting to the Mur ahead of the bunch even if the odds of taking the win are reduced. We eventually made a right turn and started what turned out to be a fairly flat middle sector of the race. The first kilometre or so was on a nice wide semi urban street then we crossed a roundabout and were almost immediately jouncing over brick pavé.

It was in good repair at least, a few loose cobbles rocking as we crossed them, to be fair, there are worse in Ahrweiler. Soon after I was caught we got into a steady rotation and everyone seemed comfortable enough. Frank had pointed out some cobbled sections during yesterdays recon but to be honest I’d been looking at the terrain rather than road surfaces.

Of course driving along in a big minibus thing you don’t get to feel the smaller imperfections, the changes of surface, the loose material, just the bigger lumps, bumps and more uneven surfaces. Which is how I nearly came a cropper at the next corner. Lotte took a fairly tight line into the turn, I was outside of her wheel and the next thing I know I’m fighting to stay upright as my rear wheel started to wash out on the layer of gritty stuff that I now spotted covering the middle of what was now a single track lane.

I was reminded of northern France last year, yeah the cobbles were bad but the other shitty lanes actually caused more accidents. In Germany you just don’t see roads like it, don’t get me wrong, you get a bit of mud and stuff but the amount covering this stretch of road spoke of years of neglect, you’d think the farmers would want the mud back in their fields. It wasn’t a long stretch but it was enough to disrupt our rotation, on the other hand, it’ll be a nightmare back in the peloton.

The cars and motorbikes in front were kicking up a right dust cloud that we were forced to ride through, I was more than pleased when the road cleaned up as we reached the next village. The motorbike came up with a time check, ‘1”16, okay, we’ve lost a few seconds coming through there but if I remember rightly, there’s a nice descent coming up where our smaller numbers will give us a slight edge. The Swiss, I’m sure it’s something like Claudette, led us into the drop, more single lane down through a wooded defile, thankfully the road was cleaner if a little uneven in places.

I’m no slouch on the downhills on my own but I lack the body mass to really make use of the gravity effect, put me behind a bigger rider though, and both my companions are bigger by a good bit, and I get sucked along quite nicely. We nearly overshot the gravelly turn at the bottom, you don’t have to be a linguist to understand expletives. Then we were out onto a nice wide N road, I took point and drove the speed up again.

The board at the bridge stated we were crossing the L’Ourthe, once over we turned left to follow the river upstream. How do I know? Well there was a huge weir about half a kilometre later. Anyhow, that’s by the by, the road was well surfaced and snugged between the river and a steep wooded valley side, a train raced past on the far bank, it was like riding along a miniature Rhein Gorge but without the vineyards.
 

Everyone was still pulling their weight as we entered Comblain, if I remember right, we climb out of the valley then its fairly level all the rest of the way to Huy. Another time check showed that the bunch were holding us steady around the one fifteen mark, we could really do with a bit more clear road between us, once we get to Huy there’ll be little opportunity to do more than hope we can stay away. Well, that’s unless we do something in the next few kilometres.

The crowds were out in Comblain, I say crowds, a reasonable smattering of enthusiasts as we started the climb through the main square. I know what you’re thinking, we’ve not exchanged two words since I was caught but to be honest, there’s been nothing to say. But maybe there is now.

"We need more gap,” I opined as we all took a brief fluid intake.
"My thought too,” Lotte agreed.
"I think there is not much opportunity?” the Swiss added.
"Sorry I don’t know your name, Gaby by the way.”
"Claudette Blanc, like the mountain, everyone knows who you are.”

Well I got the Claudette bit right!

"You have an idea?” Lotte queried.
"Some, there’s more single lane roads on the way to Huy right?”
"I think so yes,” the Belgian agreed.
"Well if we give it full gas up this climb we can use the narrow roads to our advantage, we can go quicker than a big bunch.”
"Its not that much of a climb,” Blanc scoffed.
"Maybe not where you come from, but its as big as we get in Belgie,” Lotte stated.
"Doesn’t matter, we do a big effort and we can get maybe thirty, forty seconds,” I suggested.
"Well what are we waiting for,” the Swiss girl put in with more enthusiasm than I thought necessary, "Last one to the top wears a dirndl!”

Weird thing to say.
 

The road tilted a bit more steeply after yet another roundabout and Claudette put in a goodly effort until it levelled a bit when Lotte took over. Houses were replaced by trees and I moved through and kept the hammer down as the road looped through a couple of turns and a hairpin bend. There was a bit of noisy roadside support as we made the turn in close formation, the Swiss jersey returned to the front briefly before we got back into a slightly more disciplined rotation as the grade returned to single figures.

Of course, the race isn’t just two dimensional, behind us the bunch had clearly seen the danger, at the next time check we were almost two full minutes up on the main bunch but there was a chasing group of five fifteen seconds ahead of them. Three’s okay, eight is starting to get a bit of a crowd and without knowing who’s there I’d rather they don’t catch up to us. There’s not a lot we can do about it though, I think we three are all committed to going all the way so that’s it.

The road was quite good, through the next village but at the next we were directed through another cobbled lane, thankfully relatively free of debris until we passed some farm buildings. We were through quickly and it was short enough that the dust didn’t get much chance to become an issue. The road we came out onto was wider and tarmac, which suited those behind better than us, especially as it was darn well arrow straight.

Eventually it started to drop a bit and with a little waggle we were in a shallow valley, making the turns through the hamlet disrupted our rhythm a bit but the short incline back out through the trees soon had us back on track. If memory serves, its all good two lane from here, at least until the finish loop. I fished some dried fruit out of my pocket, I have a plan C to consider, three at the Mur is okay I guess but one would be better.
 

We got another time check as we entered Tinlot, who makes up these names? there were now two groups between us and the main race, the closest to us were at one fifty, the second fifteen more and finally another twenty seconds to the main swarm. Provided we don’t mess up, its ours for the taking. It was a slightly iffy plan but it looks like it was good enough for me to have a decent shot at the prize.

I checked on my companions, they both looked fairly comfortable, well as much as you do after an hour at full gas. On the other hand my legs were feeling a bit leaden, not like they did a fortnight ago when I cramped up, just heavy from the effort. I reached for more dried fruit but the pocket was bare, energy bar? Nope, all that was left was my emergency gummi bears and two gels – looks like its a slimy orange flavour gel then.

The others seemed of like fuelling mind, we have enough in hand to ease off for a few seconds to eat. We swung out onto a much mainer road, crossed a dual carriageway and looped around yet another roundabout. I think we’ve been through more of those things today than there are in the whole of the Hohe Eiffel!

Oh boy, I recognise this, we’re on the finish loop! The road dragged up for a couple of K before we started the long drop into the narrow valley that takes the course north towards Huy. Timing is everything, there are two more climbs before the finale, the first one, the longest, gains about a hundred metres, its quite tough but its still like fifteen to the finish and that's mostly downhill.

Yep any move there is doomed to failure which leaves the short, sharp Côte de Cherave six out from the line. Success is of course not guaranteed but the fairly short descent followed by the flat run along the river to the start of the Mur offers a chance. Its either that or hope to get the better of the others on that climb, okay, I flew up it last night but that was on fresh legs.

And what are the others thinking, are they expecting me to make a move? Have either or both of them got a plan? Guess I’ll find out in the next few minutes.

We reached the valley floor and even though each of us was still taking our turn on the front, there was a new nervousness to things. We reached the turn for the bigger climb and Lotte made her move, an out of saddle effort that got her about twenty metres. I must admit, it caught me and I think Claudette on the back foot, stay focused Bond, stay focused.

The Swiss changed gear, upping the revs a bit, I slipped onto her wheel we were following but not chasing hard. It’s long, maybe two K, but at around five percent you can keep up a good cadence which is what we were doing. Lotte, after the initial big gain was now loosing ground at about a metre in five, you do the sums, we didn’t have to go deep, I took over the pace after a bit taking us up to about five metres.

Our quarry had a choice, sit up or plough on, to my surprise she chose the latter, I kept us back letting her expend energy she could’ve saved. We were in sight of the summit banners when she blew, coming backwards so fast I nearly rode into her. A few fans cheered us through, on Wednesday when the Pros race they get three passes, today is a bit less attractive even if we are prettier!
 

Claudette took over on the little dip and up to the second summit before we started the ten kilometre run to the Côte de Cherave. I let her keep the lead back down to the river valley then, on the near level, initiated a return to cooperation. The sound of the neutral motorbike which had fallen away over the top of the climb returned, either Lotte was back or she’d dropped right off.

Well apparently she wasn’t finished yet, I did say this long stretch of essentially downhill was an escape killer. On the plus side, her solo chase had clearly taken its toll, her riding was less smooth, the look in her eyes was determination not comfort. I think its fair to say that if it comes to the Mur, she’ll not be an issue, you can’t fake that fatigue, unlike my ‘dodgy’ gears.

I checked my bottles, one empty, the other, perhaps two decent pulls, its enough, it’ll have to be. I took the first swig then as I was returning it to the cage I hit bump and it was either hold the bottle and crash or grab the bars and don’t. My bottle and the last of my liquids bounced away across the road.

We’re within ten K now, there was a board at the side of the road a bit back. I felt at my pockets again, the last gel wouldn’t act quick enough, nope, its Haribo time. My fingers carefully gripped three, no four of the precious bear shaped sweets and transferred them to my mouth.

There was no repeat of the previous climb, the Belgian was hanging on bravely and by Claudette’s body language, she was content to wait for the last climb. Should I do the same or stick to plan C? My mind was only really made up when the Swiss reached for her bidon almost in sight of the summit.

Out of the saddle, I quickly overtook my companions and kept on the gas even as the few spectators cheered us through. The eleven sprocket was engaged and I threw any caution aside as I headed pell mell down to the Meuse, it was a close thing at the roundabout at the bottom, I had to use the full width of the road to get around. Under the four kilometre flag then the last slope to the riverside and I was in full on time trial mode.

It was tempting to glance behind but therein lies defeat. Two kilometres and I was in the city, a few people cheered from the pavement as I made the turn into the city centre. I reached for the last of my gummi bears, one last sugar hit. The approach to the Mur is quite benign, I slipped back the gears, one, two, three, have to keep the cadence quite high.

Then I was onto the climb proper, the Chemin de Chapelles otherwise known as the Mur du Hey, the Hey Wall. I came out of the drops and onto the hoods ready to battle the gradient and cobbles ahead of me. The cars and bikes ahead accelerated away leaving me alone on the road. I reached down and checked my shoes, adding a click to each, this is it.
 

The first ramp, through turn one had me out of the saddle to keep the gear rolling onto the false flat before turn two and the entry to the wall. I did a double change, the small front ring and up a gear at the back so that I didn’t spin out. Five hundred metres, back down one, no two for the next ramp onto the cobbles, keeping wide to lessen the corner grade.

I reached the corner, the wall rising seemingly vertical above me, spectators clinging to the banks. I’m sure I saw Claudette out of the corner of my eye as I made the turn, too late to worry now, click, click and I was on the steepest section, pulling on the bars, weight as near to vertical as possible. The gutter is certainly smoother than the roadway but even so the rear tyre skipped a couple of times causing my already racing heart to add a few more beats.

The wall of sound was intense, the slight cutting concentrating the cheering, bells and horns. Last night was a big effort, today I’ve had a ninety odd kilometre warm up, the red mist was rising, talk about on the rivet. You crest the steepest section and its still three hundred to the line, I gulped air, found some extra speed, clicked up a gear and hit the turbo.

Which had no effect whatsoever. The legs were going around but there was no more power to be had. I tried standing but it made no difference, yes I was still moving but it was like riding in treacle. Another gear change and I hit the sweet spot, I was vaguely aware of, I guess the Swiss close behind, the crowd were going potty.

And then I was on my own again, the surface returned to tarmac and I was into the last hundred. I couldn’t help it, I took a look under my arm, it wasn’t Claudette, no it looked like a Spanish jersey but the girl was going backwards. Fifty, I checked behind again before straightening my jersey, a last look behind, a scraggly bunch of riders were coming but they couldn’t catch me in twenty metres.

Both arms in the air I crossed the line then promptly crashed into Matty and Frank! I say crashed, it was more a slow motion collapse as the sprint for the placings came in behind.
 

Its easy to forget, the feeling of being the victor. Mum has mentioned in the past that the pressure of the rainbow jersey is really intense, the pressure to get the results, to act like a champion all whilst wearing a big target on your back that all the other riders want a tilt at, to deny the champion, to be able to say ‘I beat the champion’. For some who wear the arc en ciel that season never does bring success, others become invincible winning everything they look at. Me, well I have to admit to having a mixed season so far.

Last week I was on a high on the stages of Hessen but whilst that was cool and the adrenalin was flowing, it was as if nothing compared to how I feel right now, winner of the inaugural under eighteen Fleche Wallone.

"Gabs, did you hear?”
"Eh?”
"Frank wants everyone back at the bus,” Izzy repeated.
"Oh right.”

The last hour or so has been a bit of a whirlwind, drug testing, the presentation, press conference, bring it on! Of course, Frank was delighted, over the last few years the Dutch and Belgians have dominated in one day events in this category, rolling out an endless stream of very competent riders, so to get this today, on their home turf has been quite a thing. Mind you, it was a lot closer than I made it sound.

Yup, as predicted the main peloton really started to motor on the finish loop, if I’d waited any longer to attack I would almost certainly have been swallowed, I literally won by like five seconds although riders were still coming in over fifteen minutes later. Maybe I could’ve won from the bunch without all that effort, maybe not, we’ll never know. Yeah, quite a day indeed.

"There you are,” Frank grinned, "Still hugging the trophy I see.”
"Erm”
"You certainly earnt it, so you ready for some food?”
"Am I!”
"You had to ask Frank,” Greta mentioned.
"Come on then,“ the boss man chivvied.

We didn’t have far to go, the Restaurant Le Cortina was only metres from the finish area, we weren’t the only team using the place for the post race meal, we were the only ones with a great big trophy on the table. Of course with the others having flights to catch it was perhaps a little briefer than usual but that didn’t stop us having a nice meal complete with some sparkling wine.

"Nearly forgot,” Gret mentioned as we all made our farewells, "Details for next weekend.”
"Next weekend?”
She shook her head, "Sometimes Bond.”
"Next weekend, Potsdam right?”
"Right,” she confirmed,” Dad said that you should have everything you need in there, just check when you get home, should be a good weekend.”
"Yeah,” I agreed, "Safe flights, see you Saturday.”
"Er yeah.”

I dozed off on the way back to Dernau only waking up as the Mercedes bumped up the kerb into Bond Acres.

Maddy Bell © 19.05.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

"Do you want some coffee? Or tea?” I offered as Frank extricated my steed from the rear of the Mercedes.

Rather than opening the house I’d gone straight to the bike cave and the door was nearly open – Dad replaced the old door for this fancy electric thing last autumn after miriad complaints about the old up and over jamming. Well that and I had to jump to reach the handle to pull it down. Manda’s bike was still absent so pfennigs to marks, she’s not back from the Wupper yet.

"Best not, I told the wife I’d be home for dinner but thanks for offering, you got everything?”

I did a mental check, Handtasche, case, phone, bike, - I’ll not live that down, trophy?

"The trophy thing? I think its on the back seat.”
"Take your bags in and I’ll look for it.”
“’kay,” I agreed before trundling the case towards the garage.

It clearly didn’t take much finding as he almost followed me into the maw of the basement wheeling my steed and clutching the latest addition to the Bond spoils collection.

"Here you go, one trophy, where do you want the bike?”

I took the proffered item, a block of clear resin with ‘Fleche Wallonne’ apparently carved inside it – not the prettiest nor ugliest in the family collection.

"Erm, can you put it on the workstand, I’m under strict instructions to clean it tonight.”
"The glamour of bike racing,” Frank chuckled as he clamped the Pinarello in place.
"Yeah,” I sighed, "Sure you don’t want a drink?”
"Better not or my dinner will be in the dog.”
"Is it a Wűrsthund?”
"I wish, it’s a Bernese, never stops eating. How are you getting on with the Deco?”
"Okay I guess, not done any for a few weeks with being away, don’t think I’ll ever get to competition level.”
"Never say never Gaby,” he replied, was that a twinkle in his eye? "Anyway great ride today, I’ll be in touch about the other thing as soon as I have things confirmed.”
"Okay, have a safe journey.”

I watched as he turned around and gave a wave as he set off to complete his journey down to Frankfurt or wherever it is he actually lives. Bike cleaning, meh, my least favourite bit of riding bikes – well after punctures and crashes. Not that I do that much, Dad usually takes care of the race bikes, mine and Mand's, so my cleaning is usually confined to a quick wipe down of the training iron although the washer does come out most weeks through the winter to keep the road salt at bay.

First job though is to get my laundry going, I hit the close button for the door before dragging my bag to the ‘laundry’.
 

The house seemed strangely quiet, I’m not often here with no one else about, Dad’ll be doing bike stuff, Mand will be about somewhere as will Mum when she’s home. Today though, the rents are away with the senior team, de Vreen is, well not back yet so its just me, we don’t even have any pets. Yeah, cats and dogs don’t really fit with our lives, we did have rabbits and guinea pigs when me and Jules were younger, even a goldfish at one time but by secondary school other things demanded our attention.

There was still no sign of Manda by the time I’d changed, it was just gone six, I don’t suppose she’ll be much longer so I raided the freezer for some frozen bolognese sauce and rather than pasta, set a couple of big taters going in the microwave. I couldn’t put it off any longer, with a sigh I made a quick cuppa and headed downstairs to where my bike was patiently waiting for a bit of post race TLC. At least there wasn’t too much to do, Andreas had given everyone’s machines a wipe down after the finish so it was mostly doing the fiddly bits like inside the gears and brakes.

I know I said I hate this stuff but its strangely cathartic, sat on a bar stool feeding the cleaning rag through all the little nooks and crannies. Even wheels aren’t so bad when you are sat like this, I can get my small hands right into the hub and whilst Dad takes the cassette off to clean, I did it the old fashioned way dragging the rag between the sprockets. Last thing is to polish the frame, I’d just sprayed the creamy gunk on when the sound of the door motor announced the return of Manda to Bond Acres.

"Wotcha,” I greeted as she came into view.
"Geez, don’t do that, you made me jump.”
"Soz, good day?”
"Okay I guess,” she allowed setting the door to close behind her, "You?”
I nodded towards the trophy still stood on the workbench where Frank had placed it, "Not too shabby.”
"Well I’m pooped, you wanna clean mine?”
"In your dreams girl,” I snorted back.
"Nothing ventured,” she sighed.
"You eaten?”
"Maybe?”
"Baked spud with bolognese?”
"Might manage that, we had soup and sandwich’s at the Grönberg’s after but that was hours ago.”
"Angela and Marcus okay?”
"Yeah, you putting this stuff in the drier?” she asked dragging my clean gear into a laundry basket.
"It’ll wait for yours, I’ll just finish this then I’ll sort the food.”
“’kay, I’ll go change, the bike’ll have to wait.
 

"So?”
"Mm.mmm,” she swallowed, "Not bad.”
"I didn’t mean the food, how’d the race go?”
"I got the girls prize and Josh was third.”
"What about Daz?”
"Packed on the second lap after it all exploded, Josh said he’s been a bit rough for a few days.”
"Sounds like a usual Wupper GP.”
"Yeah, I ended up riding round with Barbie and Fran, I only beat Fran by half a wheel. So what about you?”

And so I regaled her with my exploits as we demolished the rest of our late tea.
 

"What you got there?” Mand enquired as I opened the envelope that Gret gave me earlier, this weeks Tatort was a bit lame, a terrible plot set during a Pride march so I thought I’d take a shufti at what Dieter had sent.
"Stuff for next weekend,” I told her as I shook the contents onto my lap.
"Oo, goody, lets see,” she demanded.
"Hang on!”

There was a veritable stack of paperwork, okay, it was half a dozen sheets which included a covering note pinned to the front.
 

• Itinery Potsdamer Grand Prix
• Bond/de Vreen
• you will need to arrange with Hr Pinger transport to airport
• Friday
• flight AB324 Koln Bonn – Berlin dep 12.10 arr 13.20 check in by 11.40
• train S9 to Berlin Chatlottenburg Hbf
• exit north side Stuttgarter Platz for City Pension for 2 nights
• Saturday
• train RE7 to Lűbben 06.54 arr 08.10 rend. Outside Bhf riding kit for Spreewald 150km RTF event
• suggest regionalkarte Brandenburg
• Sunday
• flight AB327 Berlin – Koln Bonn dep 19.25 arr 20.35 check in by 18.55
• We will discuss Sunday race arrangements on Saturday.
• Attached 4x plane tickets (2/2) hotel booking confirmation

 
"Looks like a full weekend, we’re doing an RTF on Saturday so we fly out on Friday,” I advised, passing her the papers.
"Friday? I wondered why your Dad wanted to know if I had classes.”
"You don’t do you?”
"Nothing that hurts to miss. So we aren’t staying in this Potsdamer?”
"I’m sure we went to some big palace place at Charlottenburg when we went from school.”
"That was some day trip.”
"We were there for like four days, didn’t you ever have school trips?”
"Sure, we went up the City, Kew Gardens, Tower of London, the usual but we just went on the bus from Croydon. Next you’ll be telling me you flew to Berlin.”
"Nothing so glamorous, cheap as chips night train.”
"Sounds very elegant, something out of an Agatha.”
"Hardly, four girls in a tiny compartment and Nena snores.”
"Its still more fun than the one nine six bus.”
"If you say so, I guess one of us had better ring Hennie to see what the crack is for the airport.”

Half an hour later and we were all set, Hennie Pinger, Kat’s dad, had already had the heads up about our needs from Dad so it was essentially fine tuning the details. Apparently he knows a man with a van who will pick us and the two big bike boxes up and transport us to the airport, all we have to do is be ready at the allotted time, an almost civilized nine thirty. We’ll have time to kill at the flughafen but we’ll have a bit of wriggle for traffic or any issues at check in.
 

Of course, I was on the phone to Hr Pinger when Dad himself rang – well I’m guessing that’s the case as I’d hardly put the receiver down when he called.

"Bond!”
"Heya kiddo.”
"Oh hi Dad, wassup?”
"Nothing here, thought I’d best call before I start the team brief for tomorrow, so how did you get on today?”
"Okay I suppose, we’ve just been sorting out transport for Friday.”
"So you’re all organised?”
"Yeah, we get picked up at half nine, just got to box the bikes up.”
"I’ve left you instructions taped to one of the boxes.”
"We saw,” I allowed with a sigh, "We’re not totally useless you know.”
"I do know Gaby but instructions are always useful.”
"Whatever.”
"So how did the race go?”
"Hasn’t Frank rung to tell you?”
"We did speak earlier but he wouldn’t say more than it was a good result, so?”

Guess I get to revel in the tale once more.
 

After a slightly abridged version of my heroic efforts I got to the end.

“… out of gears on the Mur, I thought I’d lost it when I heard the peloton behind.”
"But they still had to climb the steep ramp,” Dad pointed out.
"Yeah,” I agreed, "Was I glad it wasn’t further to the line though, they woulda been on me in another fifty.”
"Maybe we can get a family double tomorrow eh.”
"It would be pretty cool.”

Didn’t I mention before? Tomorrow they run the junior men and the womens version of the Fleche before the main event on Tuesday. Both of tomorrows events do the same run towards Huy but they get to do two laps of the circuit, two ascents of the Wall.

"I don’t think your tactics will work tomorrow,” Dad surmised, "But we have a plan.”
"Fingers crossed.”
"Indeed,” Pater replied.

So far his tenure as manager of the senior team has been bathed in also ran crème, their best result an eighth place at Brabant Pijl for Tina on Friday. Apparently they’ve been up there in the action but in the final accounting they’ve been left wanting. As Mum is keen to point out, you can’t win all the time but I’m sure Dad’s feeling the pressure all the same.

"You still there Gab?”
"Er yeah, sorry.”
"I said, can I have a word with Amanda?”
"Oh sure, give my love to Mum.”
"I will,” he confirmed.
"Mand! Dad want’s a word,” I bellowed toward the lounge.
"Coming!” she called back.
"She’s on her way.”
"I’ll call tea time tomorrow, we should be done by then.”
"Remember I’ve got cheer tomorrow.”
"Its in the diary.”
"Okay, tell everyone glűck for tomorrow.”
"I will.”

Mand arrived so with a last ‘bye Dad’, I handed off the phone to de Vreen.
 

Well you know the usual routine for Monday’s by now, I only have classes in the morning, in theory this gives me time for the library in the afternoon but usually I’ll head back to Dernau maybe via the shops. Today was unremarkable, the usual traffic on the way into Koblenz, a skein of clouds depositing liquid sunshine at regular intervals through the morning. I must admit that my mind was only half taking in the no doubt essential points in accounting and not a lot of the wisdom imparted by Lisbet in the seminar that followed. There was no summons to coffee so I made good my escape and headed for the train home.

No one thing had me distracted, I did wonder how Mum and the girls were doing over in Lűttich, it won’t be fun if Belgium has the same weather we’ve got. But that was mixed in with the coming weekends trip to the capital and this evenings Cheer session at the Tanzklub. Guess I’ll use my Mofa to go up unless Mand is coming.

You certainly get plenty of time for reading or whatever when you have a long commute, I spent the journey as far as Bad Bresig catching up on the accounting reading that I should’ve done over the weekend before my thoughts wandered off again.
 

I wasn’t the only one a bit stiff as the All Star Cheer finished up for the night, I guess I’m not the only one who has skipped things a bit.

"Okay everyone, before you all disappear I’ve got some dates for you,” Hannah announced over the hubbub. "We’ve got quite a full calendar for the next couple of months, the club committee are keen to see some return on their ‘investment’ and getting the All Stars out in the community is part of that. Lisse, can you pass these around,” she handed Analise a stack of photocopied sheets before going on.

"So if you take a look we are at Adenau Karneval a week Saturday, Ahrweiler the following week and then its the regionals in Bonn the week after and so on. Can you have a look at the dates and let either Gaby or myself know if there are dates you can’t make. We don’t expect everyone to make every event but the more the merrier.”

There was a bit of discussion about what we’d be doing at the Karneval type events but no one had immediately cried off.

"Thought we might have seen Amanda tonight,” Han suggested as she locked up a few minutes later.
"She’s got some exam stuff she needs to revise for.”
"So she’s not gone off the idea of joining then?”
"Don’t think so, its just very busy at school and racing at the moment.”
"Oh to be young,” she mock lamented.
"You’re hardly old,” I pointed out.
"I’m ten years older than the new girls.”
"Who are all of fourteen,” I pointed out.
"What about you, no exams or anything?”
"Not this year thank gott.”
"So you’re okay with the coaching still?”
"Yeah, not sure how much of the other stuff I can get to though, same for Mand of course.”
"It’d be nice if you can get to some of them.”
"No promises, I should be okay for Bonn at least. I should get going, Dad didn’t call earlier so he’ll probably try for when I get home.”
"Okay, you at Garde this week?”
"Nah, race near Berlin so we’re going on Friday.”
"Thats a long drive.”
"Which is why we’re flying.”
"Hark at her!”
"It’s a one off.”
"Well good luck with the race, I’ll see you next Monday then?”
"I’ll be here, I’ll work on the demo routines, they don’t need to be fancy or anything, tschuss!”

I did know about the upcoming cheer events, Han had emailed me the list last week, I just hadn’t realised how close they were!
 

Of course, it wouldn’t be Monday night without post cheer Pizza so I stopped at Mayschoß on the way back down the valley, pepperoni for me and a veggie special for Mand – we did only have egg toasties before I came out after all. Maybe I should get one of those thermal bags like they use for deliveries, our supper needed warming up a bit after its trip in the Mofa’s basket down the valley. Of course its sod’s law that the phone rang just as I sunk my teeth into the first slice.
 

Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
"Thought you were gonna ring earlier,” I blurted into the mouthpiece.
"Sorry?” a voice that was not my Father queried.
"Oops, sorry, I thought it was someone else.”
"I get that a lot,” Stefan chuckled, for it was the BlauHase frontman on the other end of the connection.
"I was expecting Dad to ring,” I explained, "He’s away with the senior team. So to what do I owe this pleasure?”
"And hello to you too Erd. Well Robert has got some stuff he thinks we should do and as you’re presence would be required, well there’s stuff to discuss and it’d be best sooner rather than later.”
"Okay,” I replied cautiously.
"So what are you doing tomorrow night?”
"Tomorrow?”
"Things are moving fast.”
"Not got anything planned but like I said, the Rents are away so I can’t really get anywhere.”
"We can come to you, its not like we’re that far away.”
"To the house?”

My mind suddenly fixated on Dad’s ‘no party’ dictat, it wasn’t a party per se but it’d be impolite not to offer drinks and, and…
"Erd? You still there?”
"Oh, er sorry, just thinking.”
"Dangerous that thinking lark, anyhow we were thinking a restaurant or bar in your village maybe?”

I had to think for a moment, whilst there are a few places in the village they are mostly of the Weinstube variety or a bit, well twee, not really your rock‘n roll sort of places. But there was one candidate.

"There’s the Römerhof at the bottom of the town, they do actually play music from this century.”
"They do food?”
"Nothing fancy, pommes, wűrst, that sort of thing.”
"That should do, six thirty okay?”
"Er yeah, you want Ne-isty along?”
"No real need.”
"Okay.”
"Great, we’ll see you at half to seven at this Römerhof place then.”
"Yeah, you okay finding it, its just off the main road on Römerstaße.”
"We’ll find it,” he assured me, "See you tomorrow, tschuss.”
"Tschussie.”
 

"Not your dad then,” Mand correctly surmised before helping a wayward string of pizza cheese into her mouth.
"Stefan, we’re having a band meeting tomorrow evening apparently.”

Hey, pizza! I took another bite of the still warm, just, delight. Okay it woulda been better warmer but Ill not let a few degrees c spoil things.

"On my own again then,” Mand sighed.
"I thought you were revising?”
"You can only do so much before your brain melts.”

Yeah, I can identify with that, exams are the Devil’s work!

"You wanna come with, be my chaperone for the night?”

I think the Rent’s will approve and whilst its not got the reputation of that road house up the valley, its still not somewhere a single teenage girl would generally visit.

"Thought you’d never ask, so where’re we going?”
"The Römerhof, the Wild West of Dernau.”
"Cool,” she enthused.
 

It was nearly ten before Mum, rather than Dad, rang.

"Mum! How’d it go?”
"Well,” she started in sober tones, "It was a hard day, that hill is a killer.”
"Tell me about it,” I agreed, the memory of burning muscles and gasping for breath still quite raw from my own efforts.
"It was another classic Ardennes race, long breakaways but everyone was back together with seven K to go.”
"Its not exactly a finish for the sprinters,” I observed.
"Or old fogey’s,” Mum added.
"Oh well, there’s always next year.”
"Yeah, no ones ever one two back to back,” her tone changed and she nearly blew out my ear drum as she squealed, "I won!”
"But I thought you said…”
"I did, but along with age comes experience, sometimes hiding in the bunch all day pays dividends.”
"So?” I pressed.
"Well a couple of teams, Trek and Boels I think, were driving things when we came into Huy, things were getting a bit stringy with those roundabouts, Anita and Katy were riding herd, I was about top twenty as we turned onto the climb.”
"That’s quite far back,” I opined.
"I’d normally agree but I was pretty sure most of those up front would be going backwards on the climb, you can’t drive forty, fifty K for best bit of twenty K and still have legs fresh enough for the Mur. Anyway someone pulled a foot out on that righthander, Anita and a few others had to stop but me and Kate were far enough back to get around unhindered.

It was carnage on the Wall of course, tired legs overcoming enthusiasm, I think I was in about third about two lengths down as we crested the steep bit. Anyway, that’s by the by, they started fiddling with gears in preparation for a sprint. There’s no time for all that finessing malarkey on the Wall so I took my chance up the right.”
"Neat!”
"Three lengths and Katy took the bottom step too,” Mum enthused, "Bonds two, the rest nil!”
"I thought there was something wrong when Dad didn’t ring earlier like he said.”
"My fault,” Mum admitted, "We had a ‘bit’ of a celebration, as you do, you’re Dad managed to turn his ankle when we came out of the restaurant so we’ve been at the hospital in Liege for three hours this evening.”
"He’s alright?”
"Yeah, nothing broken, they strapped it all up, looks worse than it is, couple of day’s rest and he’ll be running marathons, he’s in bed with the painkillers now. So everything okay in Dernau? No wild parties? House fires?”
"Mu-um,” I groaned.
"Well I had to ask.”
"I’m meeting Stefan and the guys tomorrow night, stuff about the band.”
"In Bonn?”
"Nah, they’re coming to the Römerhof, don’t worry I’m taking Mand for moral support and chaperonage.”
"Well just be careful, that place has a reputation.”
"Yeah, as a pub, we’ll be fine, the lads’ll be there.”
"Just don’t sign or agree to anything without running it past me and your Dad okay?”
"I won’t.”
"Promise me Gabrielle, I’m serious, the music industry is full of sharks out for a cut of your earnings.”

Ot oh, Sunday name.

"I won’t, I promise.”
"Okay, what time is this ‘meeting?”
"Half six.”
"One of us will call on Wednesday then.”
"Fine.”
"Well I need my beauty sleep even if you don’t, g’nite kiddo.”
"Yeah, nite Mum and give Dad a hug from me.”
"I will, bye.”
"Bye.”
 

Tuesday arrived a bit brighter than we’ve had of late which meant I didn’t have icicles hanging from my nose when Olaf pulled up. The brighter weather had clearly awakened a few motorway morons, we passed two fender benders before we even got to the interchange and a more serious collision had a lane closed as we dropped down towards the Rhein. We were in plenty of time for our various appointments when we reached Neustadt and the car park though.

"We meeting for the train later?” Max enquired.
"Should be.”
"So what’re you up to tonight?”
"Why?”
"Well I thought we could, you know, take a walk in the vineyards?”
"Hmm, well tempting as that might be, one, the ground’s still damp from the weekend and two, I’m going out with Mand.”
"Bummer, rain check?”
"Definitely,” I offered pulling him down for a quick lip lock before flouncing off towards the Business College for the mornings education.
 

Of course, the commute back to the Ahrtal was opportunity enough to practice a bit of tonsil hockey, well at least as far as Remagen.

"So where are you two off to tonight?” my BF enquired as the Express failed to live up to its name going through Bad Neuenahr.
"Just down the village to see some friends,” which wasn’t a lie.
"I don’t suppose?”
"You wouldn’t enjoy it, you know...”
 

“...what its like when girls get together.”
"You fibber Gaby Bond,” Mand accused when I related the incident as we finished getting ready.
"I never said it was a girls night.”
"Just strongly hinted,” de Vreen observed.

We were running a bit late of course, when I got home there was a cryptic ‘watch Eurosport’ on the answering machine from Mum. So instead of getting ready to go out I ended up watching the last hour of the mens Fleche coverage. Davide Rebellin riding for the German Gerolsteiner team won in a fashion not dissimilar to Mum yesterday.

It was only when they returned to the studio afterwards for the usual dissection of the race that the reason for the message became clear, Mumsie was there giving some insider take on the race and the result. It was obviously about the mens race but the director couldn’t resist showing the finale of the womens event for comparison. From what Mum said last night the result was down to luck but the video footage told a different story, Mum was clearly taking it to Verstratten and Depoorter, their errors only cemented Mums position.

Of course they then couldn’t resist showing my race – I didn’t even realise they were filming it. Seeing it from the outside, so to speak, I never really looked in danger, yes they were gaining on me on the lower slopes but once I hit the Mur itself, well it might’ve felt and sounded like they were breathing down my neck but the reality was that I had good clear road and my acceleration over the top just served to increase the gap.

As usual they talked a load of codswallop comparing the girls race to the lads but they only showed about two seconds of their podium, I must’ve had a good minute! So there. Mand got home just in time to catch a reel of highlights from all the weeks Wallonie action which included a repeat of me claiming the win, was she impressed? You have to be kidding.

"Even I could’ve won from there.”
"If you say so.”
"So, what’s the dress code for tonight?”

I hadn’t really given it any thought.

"Casual rock chick?” I suggested, "I dunno, its food and drinks with the band, nothing special.”
"You still have an image to uphold.”
"Which is?” I enquired.
"Sexy vixen.”
"That is so not me!”
"If you say so but it most definitely is Erdbeer,” she stated.
 

"You sure about this?” de Vreen asked, gripping my waist in a death grip.
"Walk if you want but I’m not.”

I turned the key and the Mofa burst into life. Okay, maybe riding a pink Mofa through town at fifteen kph isn’t exactly rock and roll but it beats the poo out of walking in these boots, you know, the ones I got on Tenerife for the tour? We wobbled out of the drive but our stability improved once we were moving a bit quicker, taking the longer but quieter route through the centre and past the cemetery to reach our destination. The big motorbike parked outside the bar, all chrome and leather tassles, did its best to intimidate my machine but you can’t be weak to pull off pink can you, well?

Of course helmets of any description and fancy hairdo’s don’t go well together so its just as well mine was in simple braids, more native American than Sasoon whilst Mand pulled hers into a pony while I secured our helmets, my passenger having borrowed Jules’ for the short journey. I suppose we could’ve gone without, its not a requirement but it is a condition from the Rents. Any ways, I took a breath and led the way into the Römerhof.

As bars go it was pretty ordinary, you’ll find its like pretty much anywhere, Dad calls them ‘spit and sawdust’, nothing fancy, just a bar selling booze without any pretentious ideas of being anything more. There were a few people in, mostly, by their attire, those of more manual employment grabbing a beer after work. The arrival of two young women attracted some attention as you might expect but as Mum would say, acting like you belong will get you into lots of places so I aimed for the bar.

"See if you can find a table,” I instructed.
"Er okay,” Mand agreed before heading towards one of the vacant glass holders.

"What can I get you ladies,” the barman, a chap I vaguely recognised from around the village, asked.

Well by preference I drink wine but given where we were.

"Two beers please.”
"ID?”
"Er right, moment,” I fished in my purse and eventually found the card and handed it over.
"Fine, I have to check,” he advised returning it after a cursory glance, "Alt?”
"Er yeah, please.”
"I know who you are,” he mentioned as he started pulling our drinks, "Not seen your friend before.”
"You do?”
"Of course, everyone knows the Weinprinzessin.”
"Gott, that was like three years ago.”
He shrugged, "You made an impression,” he pointed to a nearby wall where there was a rogues gallery of Weinprinzessin. "And besides, I’m a BlauHase fan.”
"We have fans?”
"Why wouldn’t you?” he finished our drinks with a top off.
"How much?”
"This one’s on me, not everyday we have royalty in here.”
"Er thanks, do you have a karte?”
"On the board,” he pointed to the end of the bar.
"Thanks for these.”

"What was all that about?” Mand enquired.
"Free beer, he’s a BlauHase fan.”
"No accounting for taste.”
"Hey, I resemble that!”
"There a menu?”
"On the bar.”
"Its a bit, er…”
"Rough?” I whispered.
"I was going to say male, we’re the only females in here.”
"Which is why you’re here.”
"And there was me thinking is was because you like me.”
"Anyhow, the others should be here soon.”

Right on cue the door opened and Animal stepped through followed by his girlfriend Samantha, Big Jo and Stefan.

"Guys!” I called out.
"Erd!” Stefan returned as the newcomers turned towards us.
"We might need some more chairs,” Sam suggested.
"We just grabbed a table,” Mand told them.
"I’ll get some drinks,” Big Jo mentioned, "You girls okay?”
"Er yeah, fine.”

There was a bit of chair and table moving during which Marcus and LJ arrived with their respective partners. Greetings and introductions were made and it was almost like being back on the road, is it only ten days ago that we rocked Das Bett? Clearly the lads had all come straight from their day jobs, the WAG’s too, which made me feel a bit overdressed.

I never said did I, I finally settled on my skinny jeans with a vest top, Jules’ leather jacket adding a bit of insulation if not actual warmth for later – and of course those boots.

"Jasper’s sorting us out some food,” Big Jo told us when he returned with a tray of beverages.
"Jasper?” I had to ask.
"The barman, think he’s got a crush on you Erd.”
"Leave the girl alone Jo,” Hilde interjected.
"Just saying.”
"I think its the band he’s into,” I suggested.
"So why is your picture on the wall? Nice kostum by the way.”
"Kostum?” Anna queried.
"I was the Weinprinzessin a couple of years ago,” I explained, "He’s got everyone’s picture up there.”
"Maybe we should change our look, I bet you’d look good in lederhosen Stefan,” Marcus chuckled.
 

Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

"So come on Stef, what’ve you dragged us all down here for,” Marcus asked.
"Yeah, couldn’t we have just done this after practice?” Little Jo added.
"Well I thought this stuff rated more than that and as for location, well Erd doesn’t drive and I got here quicker than I do getting to Tinkers for practice.”
"Never said we were complaining mate,” Marcus stated, "So?”

Stefan pulled a bit of tatty paper, well a used envelope out of his pocket.

"Firstly, I’ve been talking to Rob, he’s got some gigs lined up for us.”
"When?” Hilde butted in, "You do recall that Jo’s taking me to Madeira in a couple of weeks.”
"Nothing’s booked Hil, Robert’s gonna send everyone the dates by email, they’re all fairly local, Köln, Solingen, Aachen, better venues than our usual round, more like the stuff we did on the tour.”
"What else?” Animal queried, "There’s got to be more than that.”
"Well he has got us a slot at the Köln Flammen1.”
"Nice,” BJ allowed.
"Certainly get us some exposure, RTL and WDR both carry a lot of coverage,” Marcus observed.
"So that’s that, I’ll tell you the other after we’ve eaten,” Stefan told us as Jasper and I’m guessing his cook, arrived bearing plates, a tureen of frites and the first of several 30cm pizzas.

Discussion stopped as food, well the consumption of food, took over everyone’s attention. Okay, it wasn’t exactly cordon bleu and Mand and me did have pizza last night but so what? Given each pizza had a different topping meant I had a slice of Pollo and one of what looked like some sort of meat feast, yes only two pieces, well I was filling up on the pommes and by the time I was ready for a third slice, well the plates were empty.

"More drinks?” Sam proposed standing up.
"Just Sprite® for me, we’re on my Mofa tonight.”
"Same for me,” Mand added, her beer glass was still over half full, "I’ll give you a hand.”
 

"The big news is that approaches have been made in regard to a record deal.”
"Who from?” BJ asked.
"Mantra, it’s an indie label based somewhere around Dusseldorf, apparently they specialise in alt rock acts.”
"Can’t say as I’ve heard of them,” Animal stated.
"Me either,” Stefan allowed, "I’ve asked around though and they seem kosher.”
"So what’s the deal?” Marcus enquired.
"One album with an option on a second, we get the benefit of their promo people and obviously studio time.”
"Sounds good,” Little Jo stated.
"Erd, you got any thoughts?” Marcus prompted.
"Um, sorry to sound a bit negative, but like what’s in it for us, I mean obviously we get a proper record release but what about rights and money and stuff? For example will we be able to do non BlauHase stuff? You hear about bands being screwed by record labels all the time.”
"Valid points Stef,” Anna chipped in.
"I don’t disagree,” Animal added, "I guess we need to meet up with them.”
"And get a lawyer,” BJ opined.
"So we all on board with the idea?” Stefan asked in an attempt to regain control of the discussion.
"In theory,” Marcus replied.
"Yeah, count me in,” Little Jo told us.
"Erd?” Animal prompted.
"No harm in talking to them.”

The others grunted assent.

"Okay, I’ll get back to them and arrange a meeting,” Stefan concurred.
"That everything?” Marcus enquired.
"Not quite, Hilde?”
"Right guys, things aren’t finalised but the accounts for the tour are pretty much done.”
"That was quick,” Animal offered.
"Go on Hil,” Stefan urged.
"Okay, I’ll cut to the chase, you didn’t lose money, in fact the tour made a nice little profit.”
"How much nice?” Big Jo asked.
"Well, after Robert takes his cut, bottom line is about two thousand each. It might be a bit more, I’ve not got the receipts for a couple of venues and there’ll be some from the merch and CD’s.”

Animal gave a whistle of appreciation.
"That include Nena, Misty?” I queried.
"Yes and no,” our ‘accountant’ started, "Yes she’ll get some, not the same as you guys but pro rata for the dates she sang on and I convinced Robert that he’d pay her cut as it was his idea to add her. At a guess she’’ll end up with about half what you guys finish with.”
"That should keep her in hair dye for a few weeks!” Mand tittered.
"Anyhow, that aside, I’ve sorted you all out with an interim payment,” she passed out envelopes, "When things are finalised you’ll get the balance.”

No one opened their envelope but BJ asked the question that was burning in everyone’s head.

"How much?”
"A thousand.”
"You’ve paid yourself I hope?” Stefan enquired.
"Included in the final accounts, there’ll be something for Sam and Anna too.”
"So what’s happening with the left over Merchandise stuff?” Anna asked.
"Robert paid for it all so he’s got that, mind you I don’t think there is much, a few T’s I think.”
 

It wasn’t late when our gathering broke up, people have work and stuff so it was a bit before nine that Mand and I wobbled back to Chateau Bond on my little pink Mofa.

"I’ll have to take up singing,” Mand mentioned as I made our cocoa.
"I’ve heard you, as Dad would say, don’t give up the day job.”
"Huh! Seriously though, that’s a pretty good pay day.”
"Yeah but its not like its regular every week.
"Still, its not to be sniffed at. So what are you gonna do with it?”

What indeed? A thousand euros, that’s like a full month working in the Kabin and its only half. I guess we were lucky with the radio exposure but its quite a bonus, we were hoping to break even not make a fortune. So what am I gonna do with such largese.

"No idea, Uni fund?”
"No fun Bond, you could splurge a bit.”
"Well there is a bottle of nail varnish I was thinking of getting.”
"Sometimes Bond!”

I lay in the dark unable to move into sleep, there was just too much going on in my head. The BlauHase meeting has added a whole new can of opportunities, gigs, recording contracts and who knows what else. I suppose in the back of my mind I had the hope that the Hessen Tour wouldn’t be my, our fifteen minutes but even so I’m not sure how I feel about these developments.

Since I was, I dunno, four, five, I’ve always imagined that my future would be as a racing cyclist, everything I’ve done for the last five or six years has had that ambition at its root. And it’s worked, three world titles, several national titles, a palmares that few of my generation come even close to. Yep, barring disaster, next year or maybe later this, I’ll step up to the senior team, my licence and job description will be Professioneller Radrennfahrer2.

But then BlauHase happened, well my part in it at any rate. I enjoy the performing, the tour was exciting, harder work than I was expecting but mostly good fun. Its left me questioning my previously unwavering commitment to a career on two wheels and the meeting tonight has thrown oil onto that fire. So far I’ve been able to combine the two but sometime, quite soon I think, I’ll have to commit one way or the other.
 

Apart from a visit to the SparKasse to deposit the cheque Hilde had given me, my attention for the next couple of days was directed at getting ahead with my college work and sorting everything out for the weekend. Thursday evening Max came around to hinder packing our bikes on the boxes, it wasn’t rocket science but he thought he was being useful. Okay, I’ll admit that it was mostly an excuse for what Gran calls ‘some canoodling’, you really can’t beat a good canoodle!

The news from the low countries was mixed, some success for the riders, Anja got third at Brabant Pijls, Mum and Tina were both top ten too. Off the bikes, well the news regarding George’s return to the reins was not so good, it looks like Dad’s secondment will be for a while longer although they’ll be back home after the weekend for a few days. Where will that leave the junior squad is open to speculation.
 

Our transport arrived at eight thirty, Ulli, Herr Pinger’s van man, turned up with his almost brand new Vito van, the bike boxes and cases sharing the tools of his trade, he’s a joiner. I know, getting into a car with a stranger, but I know Ulli from various Pinger social gatherings and there are two of us. It was a tight fit, bike boxes are bigger than you’d think, but with a bit of jiggling everything was in. Given my penchant for forgetting stuff, Mand had a check list and it was just after nine when we squeezed into the front and started our journey to the capital.
Its under fifty K as the crow flies, a bit more by road, up to the five six five past Bonn and over the Rhein, another fifteen kilometres on the ninety nine gets you to the airport. Mum would do it in thirty minutes but Ulli didn’t seem to have the same urgency and even with a bit of traffic around Bonn we still made it in like forty five minutes.

"Thanks for bringing us,” I offered as our chauffeur deposited the second bike box on the pavement.
"No problem girls, I owed Henryck a favour and I’ve a job in Siegburg so this is barely out of my way.”
"Well it’s saved us a lot of faff,” I pressed a ten into his hand, "Have a beer on us.”
"If you insist,” he grinned, "Well have a good trip.”
"Thanks.”
"Tschuss.”

While I was taking care of business, Mand had marshalled a trolley and already had one bike loaded by the time I joined her.

"Make yourself useful, grab that end.”
"Jawohl Herr Kapitan.”

She just rolled her eyes as we balanced the second bike on board. After a bit of a farcical attempt to balance our cases on board I ended up towing mine whilst de Vreen careered into the airport building, somehow guiding the trolley through the busy concourse without mishap. We had plenty of time which was just as well, once we were checked in we had to take the bikes to the oversize bag drop which is of course miles from check in and manned by the slowest official on the planet. Free of the bags we were soon through security and into departures.
 

"What now?” Mand asked, "Its ages until the flight.”
"Food?” I suggested, eyeing up the limited options, there’s nothing on the flight and it could be hours before we get another chance.”

Often I’ll get some snide comment but for a change I just got "Sure”. Then I remembered, Mand is not keen on flying, not fearful as such, she just doesn’t like it. I’m hardly a frequent flyer but I do quite enjoy the experience.

Airports are not known for their cuisine and are famous for their sky high prices but its a case of suck it up or go without. As the latter wasn’t really an option we ended up in a ‘traditional’ style place where prices were only twice what I’d normally expect.

"Well at least you get plenty,” Mand mentioned, exploring the pile of salad on her plate.
"Should be at these prices,” I observed spearing several pommes on my fork.
"So remind me again, we catch a train from the airport?”
"S-bahn.”
"Hope there’s no stairs.”
"We’ll manage, wonder what time the others’ll arrive?”
"No idea.”

I’m not sure where the time went, one minute we had over an hour, the next our flight was being called. Thankfully its not the biggest of airports so after parting with over thirty euros for our repast, we hotfooted to our gate in ten minutes flat. Flight AB324 looked quite full, the capital, as you might expect being a popular destination although business travellers were in equal number to those on leisure trips, going home for the weekend I guess.

After what seemed a protracted loading, the doors were closed, seat belts checked and we trundled towards the runway while the crew demonstrated the safety stuff. Its the same every time, some passengers talking over it while others hung on every word. There was a deeper rumble as the engines wound up then we were moving rapidly along the concrete.

A flight time of just over an hour means that no sooner are you up through the clouds than the pilot is telling you what its like on the ground where you’ll be landing in short order. It was a smooth flight, the glimpses I caught past the chap sat in the window seat revealed the patchwork of forest and farmland that typifies northern Hess and later Thuringia before the open expanses of Saxony took over the view. And then we were down, a bump followed by rapid deceleration had Mand gripping my wrist quite tightly.
 

Being a domestic flight, once we were in the terminal it was straight to luggage reclaim where once again Mand commandeered a trolley whilst I watched for our cases. There was a bit of a delay, long enough for us to take turns in the ‘comfort’ room, the belt finally starting as I re-emerged. Our cases came through quite quickly, the bike boxes took a bit longer so it was heading to two o’clock as we made our way to the S-bahn station, a half kilometre walk from the terminal building.

"Which one do we get?” Mand asked as we joined those waiting on the exposed platform.
I found the crumpled itinary in my handtasche, "Erm, S9.”
"There’s one in four minutes to Spandau.”
"Well its headed the right direction I think, its on the right platform at any rate.”
"I’ll get some tickets,” Mand volunteered.

The train rolled in just about on time, there was a bike carriage into which we managed, with a little help, to get ourselves, bike boxes and cases before the doors closed. I checked the route thingy over the door, yes we were on the right train, Charlottenburg being several stops after the Hauptbahnhof.

"Best let Dieter know we’re in Berlin,” Mand proposed.
"I guess.”

I found my Handy and after a search of my contacts, hit dial. Of course it went straight to voicemail.

"Hi Dieter, its Gaby, er Bond, we’ve just got on the train to the hotel,” I paused.
"Time,” Mand hinted.
"Oh yeah, its like quarter past two, speak later, wiedersehn.”

Whilst I’ve been to Berlin before, we stayed in the centre so this was the first time I’ve been through the suburbs. Not that they are particularly interesting, apartment blocks quickly replacing individual homes, the ubiquitus yellow buses, a snatched glimpse of the TV tower. I started to recognise a few station names, Ostkreuze, Alexander Platz before passing through the museum insel and the Pergamon Museum.

The new Hauptbahnhof is still a bit of a construction site then we were skirting the Tiergarten, I recognised the Zoo entrance, not far now I guess.

"Next stop,” Mand announced.
"Best get to the door then.”

Thankfully the train wasn’t too full and we managed to get ourselves and case in the door space just as the train drew into Charlottenburg station. The bad news was the lack of a lift so it was a bit of a struggle getting everything down to exit level. On the plus side we came out on the right side and the City Pension was virtually across the road.
"Urgh, I need a cuppa,” Mand opined as she slumped onto her case outside of the entrance.
"Me too,” another, masculine voice added.

I swung round to find Daz encumbered by his own bike box and rucksack.

"Where’d you come from?” Manda asked.
"Just got off the train from the airport.”
"Us too,” I supplied.
"Thought it was you I saw.”
"Why didn’t you shout or something?”
"Too busy running, I only just made it.”
"Well we’re here now, lets get checked in,” de Vreen suggested.

The hotel is actually on the top floors of an ancient apartment block, more stairs but at least this time we had Daz to act as Sherpa. We were just getting our keys when more familiar voices sounded.

"You made it like,” Josh stated.
"Never in doubt, when did you guys get here?”
“’bout an hour ago,” Tali told us, "Dieter rang about half an hour ago, said you were on your way from the Flughafen.”
 

Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
"We should go for a ride,” Tali suggested.

With more bodies, bags and bikes were soon in their allocated places.

"Some of us need to put them together,” I pointed out.
"Sometimes Bond,” she sighed, "Josh and Darren will do that, won’t you liebchen?”
"Eh?” Josh queried as he slid the second bike box over the threshold.
"Coffee?”
"Sure,” the big Toon agreed.
"Okay, you build the bikes and we’ll go fetch coffee.”
"Mines a latte,” Daz requested.
"Had again,” Josh sighed, "Make mine a mocha hen.”

"See, its simple when you know how,” Tali told us as the three of us descended to the street in search of a supply of caffeine.
"Its a bit sexist Tal,” de Vreen opined.
"Not a bit, its allocation of resources, they like doing mechanical stuff, we’re better at provisions.”
"She has a point,” I allowed.

There was a coffee shop a few doors down, they had a decent enough machine so we took a chance adding slices of custard tart to our order.

"How was the flight?”
"Okay, what about your train?”
"Train’s, the one into Hamburg was running late so we ended up not getting any food for the trip over. You get fed on the plane?”
"Nah,” Mand supplied, paid an arm and leg in the airport.”
"Best take the lads something when we go back,” I proposed.
"I guess,” Tali aceded.
"If we’re going for a ride maybe we can get dinner at the same time?” Mand mused.
"Works for me, looks like there’s plenty of places round here as a fall back,” I noted.
 

We were probably about half an hour before we returned to the City Pension bearing gifts of coffee and pastry. I know it would’ve taken me at least an hour to rebuild my bike but the guys had gotten three done in half that time, Daz was just topping up the tyres.

"I’m impressed.”
"Its not that difficult, wheels, pedals, bars, saddle,” Daz stated.
"Easier if you have a stand like,” Josh added.
"We got you buns,” Mand told them.
"Ah could eat a scabby horse,” the man from the Tyne suggested – such an eloquent turn of phrase.
"Mand suggested we get some food while we’re out,” I told our mechanics.
"Anywhere in mind for this ride?” Daz enquired, "I don’t really fancy riding round the city.”
"Me either, the chap on reception reckons its only about five or six K to Spandau, there’s some sort of bike track around the lake.”
"We don’t want to get lost Bond,” Josh cautioned.
"Can’t be that difficult to follow,” I blustered.
"We’d best crack on then,” Daz suggested, "Fifteen minutes?”
 

I know its rare but it was the lads who were last to arrive on the street.

"So which way?” Daz asked.
"Round the other side of the block, left at the top then we just go straight, he says there’s a bike path pretty much all the way.”
"We’ll take your word, Bond,” Tal stated.

And so we set off into the surprisingly light Berlin traffic.
 

The road was quite wide, the bike path a shared footpath space so we stayed on the main carriageway until we reached the ZOB / Messe junction where a proper segregated lane climbed the bit of hill towards the Olympiastadion. It wasn’t exactly a mountain and despite the slightly corrugated concrete, we made easy progress, the lads leading our little peloton away from the city. Things got a bit messy at the complicated junction at the top but once across the first bit it wasn’t too bad.

Reichstraße was actually quite pleasant, an almost straight, tree lined boulevard for around a kilometre with a little kick before it met another wide street, Spandau being signed to the left. Charlottenburger Chaussee was almost flat, almost rural and the bike path reverted to a narrow, uneven strip next to the footpath, with little traffic to worry about we rejoined the few vehicles on the actual road.

"How far along here?” Josh called back, the lads still riding point.
"Into Spandau, apparently its signed for Potsdam, the bike path goes off from that.”

Josh waved in acknowledgement as we started a slight drop into a more urban landscape of modernish apartment blocks and industrial parks. It wasn’t long before we hit the traffic of Spandau, we got split up at the Potsdam turn, the lads made the lights, Tal hesitated so we didn’t. The lights ran their sequence and after a short bit of traffic dodging we were out into countryside.

There seemed to be more traffic on this road but maybe that was due to the narrower road or perhaps the Friday afternoon effect.

"Thought this went around a lake,” Tal mentioned.
"That’s what he said,” I agreed.
"Left!” Daz called.

I can’t say I was sorry to leave the main road, the lane we turned onto, the signed bike route, was a typical country lane which dropped quite steeply for a bit before water appeared to our left and things levelled off.

"This is more like it,” Mand opined.
"Aye, almost buccolic like,” Josh agreed.
"Now we just need to find some food,” Tal added.
"I’m sure there’ll be somewhere.”
"Alright for you Bond, me an’ Josh haven’t eaten since frűhstűck.”
"I’ve got a bar,” I offered.
"I’ll last a bit further.”

It really was quite pleasant, the sun was playing on the water, the track winding between the waterfront and a string of bungalows and villas. Well for a couple of K, then, as the houses ended we passed some sort of boat club where we were directed onto a cinder path and into a thin woodland. It wasn’t great on road bikes, it was a bit dodgy where it was loose on a couple of turns but we soon emerged onto what was effectively a leisure based waterfont.

After only seeing the odd dog walker along the path, this was like arriving in a small holiday resort, gardens, boat trips, even crazy golf. I nearly ran into Josh when he suddenly anchored up.

"Hey!”
"Soz.”
"Food!” Tal exclaimed.
"That’s why ah stopped,” Josh stated as Daz, who had kept on, circled back to join us.

There were in fact two potential eateries, the quite posh looking Biergarten Kladow and across a side road, the less imposing Maisel’s Biergarten.

"Which one?” Mand asked.
"We can keep a better eye on the bikes over there,” I suggested, nodding towards Maisel’s.
"As long as they have food, I don’t care,” Tal stated.

We variously scooted / rode the few metres to our chosen eatery, which, as the name implied, was essentially a larger version of the Kabin’s seating area surrounded by a hedge. The bikes were soon parked and a bit of seat shuffling gave us a table for five close by our steeds.

"Looks like self service,” I suggested.

Of course, in Germany that’s doesn’t necessarily mean more than it not being table service.

"Proper meal now or snack and something back near the hotel?”
"Well I’m starved like,” Josh announced.
"I don’t really want to go out again when we get back,” Mand added.
"Fine, dinner it is, I’m paying, well Dad gave me money.”

The menu was quite traditional German, the usual fried and grilled stuff along with various soups and stuff like baked taters. To be honest, I wasn’t feeling super hungry so rather than the plates of carbs the others ordered, I went for bean salad and gulaschsuppe. Its not like I haven’t eaten today is it and I’ve not exactly burnt a load of calories so something lighter just appealed.

"Ah could get used to this like,” Josh espoused leaning back in his chair, glass of radler in hand.
"Comes with a price,” Mand noted.
"Aye, guess so.”
"Oo, Gab, you’ll have to tell them about Tuesday.”
"Tuesday?” Tal posed.
"Yeah,” Mand blundered on, "BlauHase have got a recording contract.”

At least she hadn’t mentioned the money.

"Might have,” I corrected.
"So that mean you’re giving up racing,” Daz asked.
"Be daft man, Bond was born on a bike,” Josh told him.
"Not quite,” that’d be just wrong, right?
"Ya know what I mean hen, take a slice through hur and it’ll say Campagnolo like a stick of rock.”
"Stick of rock?” Tal queried.
"Its like a boiled sweet you get at the seaside, usually has writing inside,” I girlsplained.
"You’ve not missed much,” Mand suggested.

"So when’s your dad back?” Tali asked as we tucked into our food.
"Well they’re back after the weekend but George is still out of action.”
"Where’s that leave us?” Daz asked with some concern in his voice.

I can understand that, he’s only just joined the squad so if things go bosoms up, any disruption will be quite a setback.

"I dunno, I’m sure they’ll sort something.”
"Aye, they won’t leave us in the lurch Darren man,” Josh stated.
 

The food wasn’t bad, nice healthy, as in big portions including my soup which arrived in a veritable tureen along with a brötchen. Maybe I didn’t need the salad too. There was a small but steady flow of customers, snippets of conversation suggested the area is popular for weekenders, no doubt coming out from Berlin to muck about on the water and so on. I could see the attraction and much like Josh, I could get used to just kicking back somewhere like this.

"We should probably make a move,” Tali proposed as we finished a caffeine infusion.
"What time is it?” Mand asked.
"Er, nearly seven,” Daz supplied.
"Shitza, it’ll be dark at eight!” I stated in mild panic, where did the time go.
"We’ll be fine,” Josh suggested, "And it won’t be proper dark till nearly nine anyhow.”
"Even so...”

The guy in reception said that you can ride all the way around the lake, down to Potsdam and back but given the time and a desire not to get lost on unfamiliar roads, we set off to retrace our outbound route. Simple yeah? The bit along the water back towards Spandau was okay, even the more main road wasn’t too bad, where it went wrong was in the town.

In a bid at a short cut, we followed a bike route sign for Berlin Mitte which went off before the town centre. It was a bit of a switchback through suburban streets but somewhere we must’ve missed a sign and after crossing the Havel, lost we were. There was an elderly woman walking an equally elderly Dachsund so I pulled up for directions.

"Abend, can you tell us the way to Charlottenburg please.”
"On your bicycles?”
"Er yeah,” I agreed, I mean duh, five of us on bikes.
She thought for a moment, "Go right here, then left onto Schwarzer Weg, all the way to the end…..”

It sounded a bit convoluted and to be honest I kind of tuned out after the third turn but it would get us closer, I’m sure.

"Okay, seems quite straightforward, we go right here.”
"Lead on,” Mand waved.

I’m sure the woman either missed a turn or I misheard as we found ourselves on a road that seemed to be going altogether the wrong direction. No doubt I compounded matters by taking us right when it looked like the road was going uphill into a housing estate.

"You sure this is the way Gabs?” Manda asked as we passed under a huge viaduct carrying a road over the turgid waters we were now following.
"Think so, might be worth asking if we see anyone.”
"We’re lost,” Tal stated.
"Not so much lost as alternatively positioned,” I proposed.
"Lost,” Daz confirmed.
"Maybe not,” Josh advised pointing at a sign for an upcoming junction.

‘Westend, Berlin’ was signed to the left while straight on headed for ‘Wannsee’. It was a no brainer, in another fifty metres we swung a left and leaving the lakeside road started a draggy climb through what seemed to be an extensive forest. Out from the tree cover a bit it wasn’t so dark and even if we bumped over a seam in the underlying concrete, the road was quite nice to ride on and plenty wide enough to ride two abreast.

A steeper ramp took us up to some housing and in a matter of metres we were riding alongside a fairly busy dual carriageway, the bike lane sharing the service road for the properties lining the road. Of course, the light really was fading now, by mutual consent the speed went up to nearly frantic. The road dipped towards what looked like a veritable wall of tarmac but it turned out to be just a long drag.

Over the crown, the twinkling lights of the TV mast some kilometres across the city confirmed we were headed in the right direction. On a hunch we followed a sign for the Funkturm which took us on a sweeping drop past the Messe and I recognised the next junction as the one for the ZOB.

"Looks like we’ll make it,” Mand panted as we rode the slalom of parked and queued cars into Charlottenburg.
"We should get our tickets for tomorrow,” Tali proposed as we slowed for some traffic lights.
"And check the times,” Daz put in.
"Right here then,” I suggested having spotted a sign for Charlottenburg Bahnhof.

Maybe we should’ve done the long way, the side streets were ‘surfaced’ with huge setts which were less than comfortable to ride over but at least it was only a couple of hundred metres to the station entrance and the ticket office which was, luckily, still open. We all clattered inside and I handed my bike off to Daz as we approached the window.

"Anyone remember the train time?” I asked, well I didn’t bring Dieter’s itinary out with me.
"I think it gets us there about eight?” Tali suggested.
I turned to the cashier, "We need five returns to Lűbben with bikes please.”
"For tonight?”
"Er no, tomorrow we need to get there about eight?”

She tapped away on the computer for what seemed like forever before her printer burst into life and proceeded to print a couple of A4 sheets.

"Okay, you need the LänderKarte Brandenburg, you can travel all over the state all day plus the cycle ticket.”

She handed me the top printout and I looked at the details, day ticket and bike thirty four euros.

"That each?”
"No,” she smiled, "That is for you all including the fahrrad.”
Well that’s a relief, "We can’t use our student cards can we?”
"Not for this sorry.”
"Okay, do we need to book the train?”
"Just turn up, the tickets are good until three on Sunday morning.”
"No rush to get back then,” Josh opined from behind me.
"So to get to Lűbben you need the RE7 on platform four, the six fifty four gets there at eight ten.”
"That’s what Dieter put on his sheet,” Tali chimed in.
"Twirly,” Mand groaned.
"Can I pay by card?”
"Sure, moment bitte.”
 
A couple of minutes later we were done, at least we wouldn’t have to muck about in the morning.

"We’d best get stuff for breakfast,” Josh proposed, "They don’t start until seven at the hotel.”
"You’re worse than Bond,” Mand told him.
"Well if you don’t want any…”
"Never said that,” she backtracked.
"There’s some sort of market over on the corner,” Daz noted.

Of course, it made no sense everyone getting their own so Tali and Mand were put in charge of supplies while the rest of us corralled the bikes back to and inside our accommodation. Easier said than done, we’d barely got them stowed and locked in the store room before the girls arrived brandishing bags of comestibles.

"That all for tomorrow?” I asked.
"Thought we’d double up in case we miss Sundays,” Tali stated.
Josh pulled her into a hug, ”great thinking hen.”
"Geroff you great lummox.”
"Aye, but you love me really.”
"Get a room,” Daz requested.
"We got some dessert for tonight too,” Manda interrupted.
"Shower and change first,” Tali ordered.
"Mu-um!” I mock complained.
 

And so we ended the day gathered in the patrons ‘lounge’, a wide bit of corridor with a couple of sofas, drinking bad coffee and demolishing several packets of cheapo bar cakes – happy days.

"Apart from getting lost,” Mand started as we were laid in our beds, outside Berlin seemed remarkably quiet.
"Not lost, alternatively directioned.”
"Whatever, apart from that it was a good ride tonight.”
"Yeah, not bad.”
"Hope tomorrow stays dry.”
"A hundred and fifty K in the wet wouldn’t be fun, at least its flat, we probably did more climbing tonight.”
"Hmm.”

And with that de Vreen was gone and I wasn’t long behind.

Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
"Gab!”
"Urgh.”
"Gab, wake up, its six fifteen!”

The urgent tones of my room mates voice eventually registered.

"What?”
"We’re late, come on or we’ll miss the train.”

Train, train, train! Shitza!

It’s a good job the station was literally like fifty metres away, you’d think half an hour was plenty of time to get up, dress and get across the road but it was gone quarter to by the time the five of us scrambled across the road to get the five to seven train. The others weren’t much better than us, out of necessity the breakfast stuff went in Josh’s holdall along with everyone's bikes shoes – we can eat on the train. Finding someone with a key for the storeroom where the bikes were stored was the other issue but that was resolved when the day manager arrived, thankfully early for their shift.

The RE7 rolled into the platform almost spot on time, as usual the bike carriage was the opposite end to where we waited so that meant a sprint down the platform to board. We were still parking the bikes when the Zug set off again, luckily it wasn’t busy so we were able to grab table seats on the top floor for four of us, Daz with the holdall filling two more directly behind us. We held off with the food until we’d cleared the Hauptbahnhof where the train took on a surprising number of passengers, when Josh checked, our bikes were hidden under a mass of machines so I guess we aren’t the only ones heading for this RTF thing.

There was a bit more passenger movement at the Ostkreuz after which we quite quickly moved through suburban East Berlin, the crossing of the Spree heralding our departure from the capital into the countryside of Brandenburg. We were filling our faces by now, our breakfast picnic wasn’t exactly ideal – no coffee for starters, but it did have plenty of sugary carbs the way a five year old might enjoy. Pumpernickel bread, sliced cheese and ham made quick no fuss sarnies, a packet of sponge fingers served as spoons for the tubs of yoghurt, all washed down with bottles of fruit juice and finished off with a pack of Madelines, you know, those sweet little sponge cake things with jam in.

Beyond the glass, the Brandenburg morning was looking quite bright but the patches of ground mist in some of the fields hinted at some coolness. There wasn’t really a lot to look at, there were more trees than fields and being essentially flat they provided the horizon.

"Wonder what that's all about?” Daz mentioned as we slowed into another station, this one surrounded by trees with barely another building in sight.
"Brand Tropical Islands,” Tal read from the name board.
"I’m sure that's the place on the flyer back at the hotel, some sort of waterpark,” Mand opined.
"Thought that was nearer Berlin,” I suggested.
"We’re what, an hour tops from central Berlin Gab,” Tali pointed out, "Hardly a long way.”
"Its only two more stops to this Lubben place,” Daz told us.
"Luebben!” me and Tal corrected.
"Whatever, we’ll be there in ten minutes according to the screen,” our tour guide advised.
"Best start getting ready then,” Josh prompted.
"Slave driver,” I complained even as I helped Tal and Mand with the clean up.
"Ah’ll go down to the bikes like, you gonna bring the bag Daz?”
"Yeah, got it.”
 

Lűbben was actually the third stop, we’d spent the last five minutes of the journey jockeying with at least twenty other cyclists to untangle steeds from the morass of bikes using the service. The train squealed to a halt and the exodus began, our five bikes being amongst the last to emerge. By the time we reached the front of the station pretty much all our fellow travellers were gone.

"About time, I thought you’d missed the train,” Gret admitted appearing from the shadows.
"It was close,” Tal supplied.
"Where’s your dad?” I enquired.
"Down at the event, its not far, you can ride in those.”

Not far she said, I suppose its all relative but try riding a kilometre, over cobbles, when your feet keep slipping off the pedals. It didn’t take long but I wasn’t the only one who barked their shins on the way. The event HQ was of course awash with bike kind, not just ‘serious’ riders like us but there are events for all ages and abilities right down to kindergarten. A lot of riders were already queuing up for the start of our event, just thirty minutes away, we had time but not to dally about.

Dieter had set up an impromptu team HQ complete with a workstand, Gret’s mum, Sonja had a table laden with bottles and, I was pleased to see, a big thermos jug that I hoped contained coffee.

"Morning everyone,” our leader for the day greeted, "We’ve not got a lot of time we’d best crack on. Josh, Greta, if one of you can check tyres and the other give the bikes a quick wipe and put on the numbers, I’ll check everyone’s gears and brakes, any known issues?”
"They were okay on last nights ride,” Tali advised.
"You rode last night?”
"Not far, just to get some dinner,” I told him, Tal and Mand giving me looks that suggested I not go onto more detail.
"As my husband hasn’t told you, the toilets are just behind the beer trailer,” Sonja Luchow mentioned, "Then I’ve got coffee and pastries here, you’ve had breakfast?”
"Aye,” Josh replied, "Ah need to make a visit an’ ahl be reet back Deetur.”

The toilets were both clean and queue free, within ten minutes we were all back with the Luchow’s, munching pastries and sipping the slightly bitter coffee in between stripping off legs and changing footwear.

"Okay guys,” Dieter started once he’d got our undivided, "Just remember, this is not a race, the roads are fully open to traffic so obey road signs and marshalls, you know the score. There’s no prizes, just treat it as a training ride with more riders. On the other hand a good workout ahead of tomorrow is the main reason you’re here today but that doesn’t mean riding through all the stops, you need to get your cards stamped anyway, we’ll be parked just before the Straupitz stop but otherwise you’ll be on your own. Questions?”
"When’s dinner?”
"Gabeee!” the others all chorused.
 

We joined the other several hundred riders waiting for the start, the MC doing his best to enthuse the assembled masses. There were easily a couple of hundred riders ahead of us, the first few kilometres will no doubt be a mad chase, I’ve seen it before at these events.

"If we get split up, Dad says we should regroup at the first stop at forty K,” Gret suggested.
"The traffic should’ve settled by then,” I agreed, "We all okay with that?”
"Aye, me an Daz can ride as sweepers if you like,” Josh offered.
"See how it goes.”
"Okay.”

By now the start was imminent, the local mayor was poised with the flag, a countdown was playing over the PA, an air of expectation settled over those waiting to start.

‘Paaarrrppp!’

 
The start was actually on closed roads, mostly I think to get everyone out of town as quickly as possible. Even so, a selection amongst the long snake of riders had already caused several splits in the field before we cleared the town and headed out into the Brandenburg countryside. I think we’d easily passed a hundred or more riders but there were plenty still ahead of us.

It might not be a race but we were cracking along at around forty K, part of a group of maybe thirty who by twenty kilometres were steadily eating through those who’d started too fast and were already feeling the pace. It wasn’t organised as such but there was already the makings of a chain gang, a group of loosely similar ability in a double line of through and off.

The fact we were still eating riders suggested we were far from being at the head of affairs but a look behind revealed we were some way ahead of the next group even if the road between was strewn with riders either trying to move up or dropping back.

"Tropical Island,” Tal stated pointing across the road.
"Looks like an old airfield,” I opined as we swept past.

We nearly rode past the first stop at Krausnitz, well half ‘our’ bunch did and ended up doing a u-turn to take Schulstraße, the lane which for this morning the village was hosting these rides. There were indeed a good number of riders ahead of us at the stamping station and the food tables.

"Push on to stop two?” Josh suggested.
"Go for it,” Gret replied.
"Lets get jiggy then,” Daz added pushing off through the chaotic scenes.
"What he said,” I added following suit.

I’m sure without the stop our little peloton would’ve stayed pretty much intact but the reality was that back out on the course the six of us were about as big a group as departed together. The next few kilometres we picked up a few strays, a few more caught up to us, well after the frenetic first hour we were now cruising at a more sustainable thirtyish kmh. Our new group was a bit smaller but it looked like everyone here had experience of these things and whilst they were mostly individuals, there was a happy competence that needed no words.
 

"So how’s ya doin’?” Josh asked, a missed turn having caused a change in pairings.
"Fine, I could ride all day like this.”
"Ah wasn’t meaning this hen, Manda was saying your gonna be like a pop star.”

She’s got a big mouth that de Vreen.

"Ah that.”
"Aye, that, ah know you sing with that band like but she was saying you’ll be making records an’ stuff.”
"Nothing’s settled, its all hyperthetical really.”
"So yous won’t be hanging up yer wheels then?”
"As if!” I snorted, "Give up all this for a life of luxury and fast cars.”
"Yer Mam already does the fast cars ah hear.”
"Tell me about it, Mand won’t get in the car if Mum’s driving.”
"Did I hear my name?” said women asked over her shoulder.
"Was just telling Josh about Mum’s driving.”
"I swear she thinks she’s Schummie,” Mand proposed before returning her attention to following Gret’s wheel.

Josh gave a chuckle and me a sideways glance.

"Ya would tell us like?”
“’course I will, I mean would.”
"Ah owe you a lot Bond.”
"Think I owe you more.”
"If you say so, remember, I’ll always have your back lass.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Have my back why?

Our conversation ended when we hit a stretch of nasty big cobbles in the centre of one of the villages, the ensuing jouncing reset the group and soon afterwards we embarked on a stretch of several kilometres of single track lane which unusually had a few ups and downs in this mostly flat countryside. The last of the ups was the biggest, not exactly steep but a bit of a drag over about a kilometre then at the top we were directed to stop two.

I think a lot of the faster riders were on a similar strategy to us, I spotted several riders from the start but there were others who I suspect were the tail end Charlies from the two hundred event which set off forty five minutes ahead of us. This time, after getting our stamps, we partook of some of the food and drink on offer. It was getting quite warm now, the earlier chill long gone so eking out the on bike liquid supplies seemed sensible.

We weren’t stopped long, maybe ten minutes but there was mow a continuous stream of new arrivals. I think a few of our previous bunch mates had been looking for us to depart as by the time we reached the main road, maybe a kilometre away, we had a fair facsimile of the pre stop group around us. After more village cobbles the road was wide and well surfaced, the shadows suggesting we were heading south.

Whether it was the road or the result of the short break I couldn’t say but the speed crept up and once again we started to hoover up a few slower movers. The road bobbled about a bit but the ups never needed a downward gear change, when we had a bit of gravity assist we were pretty much freewheeling at forty five! Things settled down again and we started to pickup some riders from the later starting shorter events, we were not far off ninety kilometres in, they were more like a dozen or maybe twenty from the start.

It was a bit of a dodgem ride along to Straupitz, my first order of business after the stamping was done was the erm, facilities. We did see Gret’s parents as we navigated the village but with no need of their assistance just exchanged greetings.
 

"Here,” Tali thrust a crepe into my hand, "Local delicacy apparently.”

Well I never look a gift horse as they say, especially when there’s chocolate spread involved.

"Fill the bottles and go?” Josh suggested, "We should get ahead of most of the traffic.”

Whilst its nice to see all these hundreds of riders, they can be a distraction if you want to ride quicker and in a group. In fact some are downright liabilities and as Dad would have it, contenders for a Darwin award.

"The next stop is only about ten K,” Gret told us, "There’s a bit of a loop around some lake after that before the last stop.”
"Suits me.” I confirmed.
"Lets do it,” Mand enthused.
 
Our peloton all seemed to have disappeared this time so it was just the Apollinaris train to navigate around the slower riders, which was just as well given some of the riding. The road didn’t help, it wasn’t a bad surface as such, it was just very choppy due to subsidence, the waterlogged woodland and pastures scenic but giving the name Spreewald a different meaning to the obvious. After bouncing about for what seemed like ten kilometres we reached a main road which we followed into Burg where the penultimate stop was sited.

The set up here was a bit different, maybe to cope with rider numbers, after the stamping you either went straight through or into a lane where calories could be acquired.

"We stopping?” de Vreen asked.
"Thought we were pushing on.”
"You okay?” Gret asked her.
"Yeah, well no, a bit of cramp, I’ll be okay after walking on it a bit.”
"Stop it is,” Josh stated.

I wasn’t too happy about another stop so soon after the last but I could hardly complain. Of course within a minute I was glad of the extra stop, a rider eating what looked like Linsensuppe caught my attention and I was soon not the only one spooning the tasty soup into my maw. No one ever out and out will say it but in my experience, getting some salt into your system works wonders for relieving cramp and this soup, with its chunks of sausage certainly tasted a bit salty. Whether it was the salt or just the short walk I couldn’t say but by the time we reached the end of the food lane she announced herself fit to go on.

There were still a lot of riders on the lanes but on the wider roads they were less of a hazard to the Apollinaris train, there was still over thirty K to go but we started to wind things up. It came as a bit of a shock when, after several fairly sheltered kilometres, we came out onto the exposed land surrounding the lake, a stiff crosswind breaking our rhythm. The good news was that we soon changed direction and rather than a hindrance, the wind settled on our backs as we followed the lane around the water.
 

Having had the stop at Burg we did a stamp and go at the final feed at Lűbbenau, after all its just fifteen kilometres to the finish. We seemed to go round in circles at one bit before taking a little lane that took us to a slightly rickety footbridge over a sluice. It was a bit sketchy to ride over, after watching me the others all walked. We were now riding on the dyke next to the river, tarmac but quite narrow, with Mr Waugh heading our train we zipped along, a couple of times just squeezing past errant dogs and walkers.

I thought by the distance we’d go straight into the town along the river but we were signed off short onto a dusty lane that took us into a sort of village rather than the town itself. Which is where we got a last treat, best part of a kilometre of horrible cobbles taking us back to the event village. There was quite a traffic jam as we approached the finish arch as the squad of women wearing the local Kostum handed out the event gongs.

Okay it’s a prize of sorts, what felt like a lump of lead in the form of a gurken. Most of them were, as you might expect, painted green but the yellow stripe on our numbers awarded us trophies with a spray of silver.

"Aargh!” Mand squarked as we headed towards a purveyor of after ride refreshment.
"Your leg again?” Gret enquired.

De Vreen managed a nod before another yelp rent the air.

Which is when Sonja found us.

"Over on the bench, Gret, go find your Dad, he was over by the beer tent.”
 
Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
Cramp sucks and muscular leg cramps really are the pits, the excrutiating pain, the inability to do anything about it, the only good thing this time was that it wasn’t me wracked with pain. Sounds a bit harsh I know, I do have sympathy for Mand and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone but, yeah, I’m just glad its not me whimpering on the bench. Dieter arrived after a couple of minutes, Sonja’s ministrations had managed to lessen de Vreens squeals but as I know from experience, that relief can be all too brief.

Herr Luchow put his beer down and started issuing instructions.

"Okay, the rest of you go change, the bus is in the carpark by the entrance, Gret has the key, Josh, Daz, put the bikes in the trailer, make sure you lock it,” he handed Josh some keys.

It didn’t feel exactly right to just leave Mand but the Luchow’s are in charge this weekend and its not like Dad would’ve done anything different.

"Come back when you’re done, if you bring your Stempelkartes you can get a ride certificate.”
"What about Mand?” I asked, watching as Sonja massaged the afflicted’s leg.
"Greta’s bringing the med kit, we’ll soon have her back on her feet.”
 

The lads double handed their own bikes along with Gret and Mand’s and we headed through the crowds back out the way we so recently entered the park. It wasn’t far, maybe two hundred metres but clomping along in bike shoes that far isn’t ideal so footwear was removed and we carefully walked barefoot on the warm tarmac the rest of the way. Gret was just locking the bus up when Tal and i got there a bit ahead of the lads.

"How is she?”
"Still squealing like a pig,” Tali advised.
"Tal!” I admonished.
"Well she is.”
"Even so.”
"Well I’d best get back with this,” Gret stated.
"See you in a bit,” I called after her as she jogged away with the cycling equivalent of a magic sponge grasped in one hand.

We hadn’t exactly brought a lot down from Berlin, yes we had a change of footwear and us girls had fresh underwear to put on but that was about it. Tal and I did the clothing change shuffle in the hired bus, a Volkswagen Sprinter that gave us plenty of room, certainly more than the usual nine seaters we get having six single seats in the back rather than the usual shared seat arrangements. I was glad to lose my damp BH, sweaty bras are just so gross and after a hundred and fifty kilometres, mine was a bit aromatic too.

I found a pack of wet wipe things amongst the coffee stuff from earlier which allowed us to freshen things up a bit – not ideal but better than nothing. By the time we were done the lads had the bikes secured and after they’d had a quick wipe down we locked up and headed back into the event headquarters.
 

Manda certainly looked better when we found them, they’d relocated to some seats under a sort of awning affair that offered some respite from the sun.

"You okay Manda hen?” Josh asked.
"A lot,” de Vreen allowed.
"You gonna be okay for tomorrow?” I asked.
"She should be,” Dieter suggested, "Plenty of electrolytes and a dose of potassium should do the trick.”
"So what are we doing now?” Daz enquired.
"Well I suggest you get your certificates first then you can enjoy the entertainment for a while. We’ll be eating later, I’ve got a place booked,” Dieter told us.
"Didn’t you guys bring a change of clothing?” Gret asked.
"Only like underwear,” I admitted in a low voice.
"Well you can’t spend the rest of the day in that stuff,” Sonja opined.
"We’re okay,” Josh stated.
"Hmmph!” Frau Luchow retorted.
"Lets get these stertificates sorted and I fancy eis, you coming Mand?” I enquired.
"I’ll give it a go.”
"Okay, we’ll stay here but eis would be nice,” Dieter hinted.
 

There was a row of small marquees along the far side of the small arena, a queue snaking away from the central one. We made our way through the multitude of our fellow participants and their supporters, eating, drinking and reliving their exploits out on the roads of Brandenburg. It didn’t take long to ascertain that the queue was indeed for the certificates and so we joined, adding our own reminisces of the day in the saddle to those around us while we waited.

"Dunno why we need these,” Gret mentioned unfolding her Stempelkarte which, like the rest of us’, was now rather dogeared and damp from a day in our jersey pockets.
"Proof?” Tal suggested.
"Of what,” Daz asked.
"That we rode all the route I guess,” Mand offered.
"Seems a bit anal just for a bit of paper,” Daz observed.

The PA system crackled into life with a rendition of Billy Joel’s Uptown Girls and a few girly yells pulled our attention to the ‘arena’. The squeals were from what I assumed by their attire, were the local cheerleaders, around a dozen girls in light blue leotards and short skirts waving poms enthusiastically above their heads. Well you know what its like, much like racing bikes, once a cheerleader always a cheerleader, ‘professional’ interest and all that.

They were enthusiastic, I’ll give them that, I guess that the ‘wilds’ of eastern Germany are still a bit country yokel compared to the west nearly two decades since reunification. They might be driving Audis instead of Trabants, eating Maccy D’s and so on but they’ve still got some catching up to do in some areas of life. Exposure to American culture is one of those things and the ‘Lübbeneers’ reflect that.

The display involved a lot of pom waving, a few simple gymnastic set pieces and some jumping about. I found myself comparing what I was watching to the All Stars and the Foresters and they came up short, well I don’t suppose they have the sort of coaching that the groups I’ve been involved in have had. I found myself thinking how their routine could be improved and so on, if I was in charge I’d…

"Gab, come on,” Mand urged, "You can shake your poms on Monday.”

Am I that transparent? We shuffled along for another ten minutes before reaching the printing department, our cards were checked and after a short wait the printer whirred and clanked before spitting out the ‘coveted’ certificates. Half an hour queueing, two minutes checking details, thirty seconds printing, job done.

If there’s one thing I miss in Germany its ice cream vans, I’m not saying they don’t exist but back in England an event like today there would almost certainly be at least one Mr Whippy or the like offering 99’s, ice lollies and so on. But we aren’t in England so we have a trailer thing doing, in todays case, just plain waffle cones in two sizes, kinder or standard.

"I’ll get these,” I told my companions, "Your parents both have one Gret?”
"Just dad, mum can’t stand this sort, it has to be chocolate from the Greschke shop in Cottbus.”
"Okay, everyone else?”
"Please,” Daz enthused.
"As you’re offering hen,” Josh added.

And so it came to pass that we returned with our ice creams to the awning where we found Dieter Luchow sat on his own nursing what was left of his beer.

"How’s the leg Amanda?”
"Still a bit sore,” de Vreen replied, subconsciously giving it a quick rub.
"Well that’s good news,” Dieter allowed.
"Where’s mum?” Gret asked.
"Running an errand, she’ll be back shortly, lets see these certificates then and we’d best get a photo or two of you all with your gurken for George.”
We stayed at the festival for another hour or so, there were würst to eat, cold drinks to, well drink and entertainment to watch, all in the company of a couple of thousand fellow Radfahrer from tots to octagenarians, well quite old anyhow.

"We should get back to Berlin,” Tal proposed as the shadows started to lengthen.
"I guess,” I agreed, "Gret, you think your dad will drop us at the station?”
"Duh, dinner!”

Okay, I hadn’t so much forgotten but I’ve been snacking so didn’t have a burning need for food.
"Dad? We going to dinner? I think Gab’s is hungry.”

Huh!

Dieter checked his watch, "Okay, we’re a bit early for the restaurant but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

We gathered our stuff and headed out to our transport.
 

"This looks a bit posh,” Mand suggested when we pulled up at what looked like one of those expensive country hotels a few minutes drive from Lübben.
"Are we gonna be okay dressed like this?” I asked.
"Never fear, Sonja’s here,” Gret’s mum sang out, turning to face us from the front of the bus. "Nothing fancy but its not cycling gear, I think they should all fit, Gaby,” she passed a bag back for me and the others in turn except for her daughter.

The contents turned out to be clothing from Kik, the Lidl of the textile and clothing world here in Germany. The lads each had a pair of cargo shorts and a polo shirt, Tal and Mand similar outfits but in more girly colours.

"Sorry about the dress Gaby, they hadn’t got any shorts in your size.”
"Er thanks for getting this stuff.”
"Yeah we should’ve thought things out better,” Tali told our dresser.
"Right lads, with me,” Dieter ordered, "Lets find you somewhere to change.”

We were parked in a quiet corner of the car park so we weren’t on view as we stripped to our undies, our slightly wiffy bike gear deposited in a carrier bag, only Mand needed to strip further but we’re none of us shy. Gret of course had packed a denim skirt and sun top, oh how I wished there had been shorts in my size at Kik. Don’t get me wrong here, I was grateful that Sonja had got us this stuff, it was just that the dress was, well, a bit embarrassing.

I know I’m a short arse and a bit on the skinny side but really, a size one six eight? Its not that it didn’t fit but it was clearly meant for a girl somewhat younger than my seventeen years.

"Nice frock Bond,” Manda spluttered when I stood to tug it into place.
"Sorry Gaby, I didn’t realise it had that on it,” Sonja apologised.

Could it have been worse? It could’ve been pink or covered in frills so yes it could be worse but that doesn’t mean a lot. As dresses go it was quite plain, a sort of dark lavender stretch fit t-shirt style that just about concealed the tan line from my cycling shorts, so far so good. No it was the glittery unicorn printed across my bosom that was the issue, I must look about ten!
"I’ll live,” I sighed.

If you know my history you’ll know that I only really started wearing dresses and skirts when I was thirteen, as a child neither I nor my sister had anything like this in our wardrobes. And now, well sparkly unicorns might look cute on an eight year old, not sure I’d agree on that even but on a young woman…

 
We were still a bit early to dine but we were accommodated at a table, drinks ordered and my embarrassment largely passed, Dieter called us to order.

"We might as well go through tomorrow now as later. So, I’ll take all the bikes home tonight, give them the once over and bring them up in the morning. You need to be ready with your luggage at eight thirty, its not far to the event but I’d rather be early than late. Everyone okay so far?”

"Aye,” Josh answered, nods and grunts from the rest of us agreeing to that.

"Right then, the race itself is one big lap around the Wannsee then you do a couple of laps around Sansoucci before the finish in the palace grounds, we’ll take in most of the circuit on the way but it’s basically flat with just a couple of short rises, a lot flatter than where you were last week, more like today in severity.”
"Billiard table,” Daz suggested.
"Not quite,” Dieter told us, "But its finished with a bunch sprint all but once in the last ten years – I checked with the organisers.”
"Maybe its time for a change this year like,” Josh opined.
"Perhaps we need a magical beast to help us,” Mand chortled.

And I’d nearly forgotten what I was wearing, I’ll get you de Vreen!

"I think we plan for the big gallop,” Dieter went on ignoring Manda’s comment.
"Aye,” Josh agreed, "Keep the pace high and get our champion to the front at the end.”
"Couldn’t we just mash ‘em on the circuit?” I asked.
"Make a decision in the morning,” Dieter suggested, "You’ve had my input, you’re the ones riding, Josh you’re road captain.”
"Is there a feed at all?” Tali enquired.
"Yes there is, just before you join the finishing circuit at about fifty kilometres, oh and there is neutral service if you need it.”
"Hope not,” Gret mentioned.

Things descended into more general chatter, tales from last week’s riding experiences in both the NRW and Wallonie and the more general chit chat that, especially teenage girls indulge in. It felt like an age but it was probably no more than thirty minutes before one of the table staff arrived with menus. Having at least pretentions of grandeur the Spree Heide Hotel’s offerings at first glance looked quite pretentious but once you’d translated the French into German, most of it was standard fare maybe with a fancy sauce.

Considering the prices, I wasn’t that impressed, my Côtelette Camembert was okay I guess but i would’ve preferred some proper salad to the grated carrot and what looked like dandelion leaves and a few more boiled taters than the five tiny things on my plate. I wasn’t paying so I felt a little better ordering a Créme Bruleé which arrived aflame as it should. Their coffee was a bit urgh though, far too bitter – I needed three sugars to make it palatable.

"Okay,” Dieter started as we finished our coffees, "Lets get you to the station, I know Dave would suggest an early night and I know that probably isn’t going to happen but you should at least be near your beds.”
"Ah don’t think we’ll be oot on tha toon Deetah,” Josh posited.
"Yeah, they wouldn’t let little miss unicorn in and it wouldn’t be fair to leave her with a sitter,” Mand almost brayed.

Seriously? You can go off people and de Vreen was starting to get on my wick.

"Just be ready when we get there please.”
"We will,” Tal promised on our collective behalf.
 
There didn’t seem much point taking our bike shoes and helmets back and Sonja insisted on taking our dirty gear from earlier home to launder, without the bikes either we were able to snag upper deck seats when the RE7 slid into Lübben barely five minutes after the Lüchows dropped us off. Josh and Tali cuddled on one seat, me Mand and Daz sprawled around a double seat a couple of rows away. It wasn’t exactly late, only just turned eight but the earlyish start and riding a hundred and fifty kilometres had taken their toll and I found myself dozing off.
 

"Bond!”
"Eh?”
I felt my shoulder being shaken, "Wake up, we’re in Berlin hen.”

And?

I cracked an eye, "Hmm?”
"We’re gonna do some sightseeing like.”
"Hotel?” I mumbled, “’snearly dark.”
"Come on Gab, Daz and Mand haven’t been before,” Tal stated, "We can get a sightseeing bus, see the sights.”
"Get a snack before we go back to the hotel,” Daz tempted.

Well that clinched it, we got off at Alexander Platz as the light faded from the heavens, replaced by manmade illumination. There were still a fair number of tourists about as we wandered past the TV tower, yours truly acting as tour guide based on my memories from the school trip. After looking for the now stopped tourist buses we instead caught a one hundred, Tal insisting that we sit upstairs, the Berlin double deckers being a rarity in Germany.

Not in England though, as we made our way past the Dom and onto Unter den Linden my mind wandered off to memories of bus trips from Warsop, up to Worksop or down to Mansfield then occasionally further to Nottingham or even Sheffield. Innocent days with my friends, some of which I’ve not seen for best part of a year or more, back then we were joined at the hip.

I was jerked from my daydreaming, quite literally, by Manda dragging me out of the seat.

"Come on Gab, we’re getting off.”
"Where are we,” I asked squinting into the darkness beyond the glass.
"Near that big gate thing,” my tormentor suggested.
"Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

After all, everyone is entitled to see the Brandenburg Gate in all its floodlit glory.
 
Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
Was it the pre-dawn chill in the room that woke her? Well it was either that or the continual drone, like a crowd trying to be quiet apparently just outside of the window. She lay there trying to make sense of it for a minute before, with a sense of foreboding, her grey matter put all the clues together. It was the loud drip just beyond, or so it seemed, the glass that pretty much sealed it, yes there was a crowd outside, not people though, rain drops made up this gathering, a lot of them falling quite hard towards terra firma.

"Urgh!”
“’sup?” de Vreen mumbled from beneath her covers.
"Rain although its coming down not up,” Gab told her roomie.
"Great,” Manda replied with zero enthusiasm.

Gab found her Handy on the night stand and checked the time, just turned six, over an hour before they needed to get up which was little consolation. If there’s one thing that’s universally hated by cyclists its rain, heavy rain and even more so if you are racing. Just knowing you were going out to be thoroughly drowned was enough to deter many riders, as for those that brave it, well its no fun.

Of course, you can’t avoid that particular misery for ever and Gabs had earned the cycle snorkling badge many times over. It still didn’t make the prospect of a wet Potsdamer Grand Prix any more inviting, she could feel the grit in her shorts just thinking about it, urgh! Knowing you don’t need to get out of bed and going back to sleep are two entirely different matters, the continuous tattoo of the rain a constant distraction to slumber.

It was after the third look at the time that she gave up, each interval seeing a single minute pass. Her thoughts turned to the previous evening…
 

"That it?” Daz pointlessly asked.

The five of us were stood in Pariser Platz looking at what, for many Germans, is the most important symbol of German reunification, the Brandenburger Tor, along with a good few other tourists.

"What were you expecting,” Manda enquired.
"Well its not as big as the Arc d’Triomph,” Daz told us.
"Size isn’t everything,” Tali opined, "Right Gabs?”
"Er right, um did you know there’s another one in Potsdam, Brandenburg Gate that is.”
"The same as this hen?” Josh asked.
"A lot smaller,” i put in, "We’ll probably see it tomorrow.”
"We should go through, its a better view from the other side,” Tali enthused.

Of course having seen the Gate we then had to walk the couple of hundred metres to look at the Reichstag, the German parliament building. The redeeming feature of this additional trek was the wűrst stand on the way – look, dinner was hours ago, not that anyone else complained about the diversion. Admittedly the building does look good under floodlights, the glass dome looking quite ethereal against the night sky.

Sightseeing done, we caught another bus to Zoobahnhof where we transferred to the U-Bahn for the couple of stops out to Charlottenburg and the hotel. It was getting on time wise so by mutual consent we headed for our beds.
 

"Suppose we should get up,” Mand suggested throwing her covers back just as my alarm announced seven o’clock.
"I guess,” I concurred with a sigh, the rain was giving no indication of letting up anytime soon besides which, Dieter and co will be here in an hour and a half.

At least we could get breakfast this morning at which thought my stomach gave a rumble. I donned a sports bra, pulled on my race bibs and a t shirt whilst Mand availed herself of the bathroom. We swapped over and I attended to my ablutions by which time de Vreen was ready to go too.

The breakfast room cum reception was already buzzing when we reached it, I guess folk want to make the most of their time in Berlin. The others had beaten us to it and claimed a table with a view out over the ‘garden’, a patch of overgrown grass fringed with bins of varying dimensions and colours. That was the highlight, the incessant wet was doing its best to reduce everything to a grey monotone.

"Nice weather like,” Josh suggested.
"If you’re a duck,” Mand retorted.
"I need coffee,” I told the table, turning to assess the situation.
"Juice anyone?” Mand offered setting off for the victuals.

Considering the nature of the hotel, the frühstück was actually quite good, all the usual components, meat, cheese, cereals, joghurt, fruit, choice of breads plus there was scrambled egg and salad stuff, several juices and a proper toaster. It may be a grotty day outside but inside things were looking decidedly rosy. As an experienced breakfast buffet eater I planned my meal in my head – not difficult as its usually quite similar and always in the same order. Joghurt with fruit, maybe an egg, meat/cheese sandwich followed by toast with some sweet spread all washed down with copious coffee and fruit juice – yep, a veritable feast.
 

"You think they’ll cancel?” Daz asked as I put together a second sandwich.
"Doubt it,” Tal sighed.
"It’d need to be worse than this I think, floods and stuff,” I suggested piling the last scrambled egg onto the brötchen.
"They might shorten it,” Mand proposed.
"Just glad I brought ma overshoes,” Josh told us.

Conversation around the table was quite muted, everyone resigned to several uncomfortable hours in the saddle. Not for the first time I questioned our sanity, I mean, we do this for fun, okay Apollinaris are generous with kit and expenses but even so, unlike the seniors who are actually paid to ride, we do it because we want to. Okay, I’ll admit that personal glory is a motivator but days like today – well they push the limits even for me.

By eight we were done, by eight fifteen we were assembled in the entrance hall waiting for our transport.

"Sorry we’re late, accident on the autobahn,” Dieter advised as he ducked inside ten minutes after the agreed time. "Everything here?”
"Ready an’ waitin’ like” Josh supplied.
"Okay, bike boxes in the trailer, cases in the bus.”

Five minutes later we were making our way through Berlin’s suburbia through the still very insistent rain.
 

Houses were replaced by woodland before Dieter pulled into a lay-by, turning to address us.

"Okay ladies, gentlemen, we’ll join the main circuit in a moment, remember its just one pass before the laps in Potsdam.”
"How far from the start to where we pick it up?” Josh asked.
Dieter checked his notes, "Just under ten kilometres, the first two are neutralized so about eight K of racing, which the profile claims to be pretty much flat.”
"We should be warmed up by the time we get here then,” Daz mused.
"Indeed, according to the profile the main climbing opportunities are in the next ten kilometres or so then its flat to rolling back to Potsdam.”
"So we should be thinking of making a move early then?” I suggested.
"It would be my reading of things, that or wait for the gallop which is what most of the field will be expecting.”
"We’d best get a look at these ‘opportunities’ then,” Josh encouraged.

Dieter turned back to the wheel and we returned to the road.
 

"What do you reckon hen?” Josh asked some forty minutes later as we made our way into Potsdam.
"I guess its one of those three climbs then.”
"Please don’t say the first one,” Gret pled.
"Okay I won’t, any thoughts on climb two?”
"We could be carrying some good speed into it after that long descent,” Daz observed.
"Not ideal,” Mand agreed.
"Looks like the last one past that tower thing then.”
"Its a long drag Gabs,” Tali noted.
"Yeah but its got that steep bit and we’ll be coming off the flat,” Mand put in.
"What about a feint on the first climb, draw some of the sting, maybe break things up a bit then main effort on the tower?” I proposed.
"Josh?” Mand prompted, "You’re road captain.”
"Its as good a plan as any, Daz, fancy a go?”
"I guess,” our newest recruit agreed.
"Okay, Manda, Tali you’re on blocking for that.”
"What about if its all together when we get back here?” Daz asked.
"Plan B, keep it fast and get our Unicorn to the line first.”
"Not you too Josh,” I groaned.
"Sorry Hen, you did look kinda c…”
I cut him off, "Don’t you dare say the c word Joshua Waugh!”
"Ah was gonna say comfortable,” the big Toon grinned.
 

The start was in the ‘shadow’ of Potsdam’s version of the Brandenburg Gate which is where we were now, an exuberant MC doing his best to enthuse the few damp individuals waiting to cheer us off into the late morning drizzle. To be honest I’d rather it rained properly and got it over with, drizzle always seems to offer false hope. On the plus side it wasn’t cold with it, those wearing race capes will soon be regretting their choice, of our lot five wore gilets, Josh alone decoding to eschew any attempt at keeping the wet at bay.

At precisely eleven the bells of the huge parish church struck the hour and a moment later we were sent on our way with a blast on a klaxon. I’m not religious but I offered up a quick prayer that it would dry up.

The field was the usual mix for these National B races, mostly ‘local’ riders with a few riders/teams from further afield. I recognised a few faces but not many, on the other hand Apollinaris and of course my rainbow bands are well known, we are certainly at a disadvantage where anonymity is involved. The lead car led us through the pedestrianised main street at a very sedate pace, only picking up to a steady twenty ish when we turned onto unrestricted roads.

A few dozen metres of cobbles jounced us about until a second turn put us onto a wide boulevard, by my computer our release was still a kilometre away.

Josh came up beside me as we cruised along in the middle of the field, "What do you reckon?”
"A few ah recognise, more ah don’t hen.”
"Same here, we really are playing blind.”
"We sticking to the plan?”
"What choice have we got?” I replied with a shrug.
"Aye.”

On the plus side the drizzle seemed to be abating, was there even a hint of brightness in the heavens?
 

The real race start was a bit of a non event, oh there were the usual feints off the front but who in their right mind would launch a real attack this far out? Okay, it did briefly cross my mind but another day riding on my own didn’t appeal, even if the course is softer than last week. So anyway, the chancers each had their day but by the time we crossed the bridge that marked the end of Potsdam we were all together bowling along at about thirty K.

So much for the profile issued by the race organisers, the wide road swept through a couple of bends and started to climb. Okay, it was hardly the Mur de Huy but it was still upward, and even five percent for a couple of kilometres has its effects on the legs. A cadre of riders were keeping the pace around thirty so it was no surprise that behind us a few of the less able were dangling off the back before we reached the nominal summit. I say nominal, it just sort of levelled off for a bit, when it did start to dip it had little effect until a steeper bit lost most of the gained height in perhaps four hundred metres. The comp suggested we were approaching the turn onto what I still considered to be the first climb, I checked the whereabouts of the rest of the team, yep, all in place.

We swept over another grand bridge, the road started to rise a little then we were on the turn. The front of the race eased into a lazy turn, Daz bade his time, launching his effort from about fifteenth wheel just before the turn was complete. It certainly threw those not expecting such a move, by the time he’d got clear, Tal and Mand were going through for their bit of the action.

There was plenty of confusion and some expletives around me, I guess our subterfuge is working. The stretch of dual carriageway up to Wannsee bahnhof prevented too much of a coming together as those behind reacted better than the leaders to our move. Even so. By the time we rolled onto the descent, Daz had a good fifty metre lead and our blockers had succeeded in preventing all but two chasers actually, er, chasing.

I hadn’t really noticed, the spray from the wheels in front disguised it, but the wet from above had ceased. I know we’re plenty wet enough but hopefully in a few K’s I won’t need to worry about wheel spray either. Unless the heavens open again of course.

Considering how much we’d climbed, the descent was quite impressive, we were touching fifty K by the time it bottomed out and climb two, a longer affair than the first, started in earnest. up ahead Daz was still giving it some, his lead was reduced but not by much. Of course momentum only takes you so far, at some point its effects are lost and the front of the peloton turned into a bit of a wild scramble. Further back things were calmer and we climbed in a much more controlled manner.

The natural thing to do at the top of a climb is ease off a bit – wrong, you keep the pressure on to press you advantage, Daz did the latter, the front of the bunch the former. As we started the long flats that would take us back towards the lake, our man was a good hundred metres ahead and the oomph seemed to have gone from the pursuit. Of course Tali and Mand were still playing interference when they could, Josh and Gret joining the fun as opportunity arose.

Part of me wanted to get in there and help but we had a plan and sticking to it will give us a better chance of success than me wading in wasting energy. It was the fast decent to the waterside that sealed Daz’s fate, a single rider has the advantage on technical downhill but a nice sweeping job like this, well its like the race between a single drop of water and a bucketful.

Our escapologist made it onto the lakeside before the ravening monster of pursuers swallowed him up. There was an almost immediate slowing of pace but hopefully the damage is done. He gave me the thumbs up as he slid back for some rest, unless we have to resort to plan B his work is done for a while.
 

There were a few puddles as we traced the lakeside but otherwise the road was drying out quite quickly, time to lose the gilet. One reason for choosing the sleeveless garment was its ease in removal, jackets are far more trouble, especially in a bunch situation. It was off and stuffed in a pocket in seconds, soon be time to demonstrate just why I’m wearing the stripy jersey.

I saw the sign for the DLRG station, my launch spot is coming up. I checked to see where the rest were, the girls were all in place and a flick of my hand brought Josh past me ready to be my turbo booster. There were a few wary looks from the rest of the peloton but seriously, none of Apollinaris were riding top twenty, any action would surely come from elsewhere, right?

Josh waited until the road turned into the base of the climb, a dive to the left saw him free of impediment and off he went. Of course, I knew the tells, I was glued to his wheel before he was past the first rank ahead of us. For such a big lad he goes up hills remarkably well and we were soon at the front, the response, a cacophony of rushed gear changing and slipping chains.

It was never gonna be a long effort from the Tynesider, I could sense him slowing moments before he heaved himself towards the curb leaving me with clear tarmac up the long, straight drag. I kept the pressure on for another twenty, thirty metres before changing down another sprocket and getting re seated. Gott, it didn’t seem this far in the bus earlier, but eventually I passed the tower car park entrance, not much further to the top.

And there it was, the bus shelter at the summit, I changed back up one and stood on the pedals for one last effort to the top. My turn to be chased downhill but I have an advantage over Daz, I’m the current World and National time trial meisterin, before I was ten metres into the descent I was down in an aero tuck and by the time the gradient started to kick in I was well through the gears doing close on fifty five kph. With a road clear of other riders I was free to pick my own line through the couple of wide bends, the last steeper ramp to the lakeside pushing my speed above sixty for a few seconds.

I chanced a glance under my arm, the rest of the race were nowhere in sight, hang on, is that them just coming off the bend now? I reached for a bidon and took a good drag of its contents, my wheels hissing across the damp tarmac in a very pleasing manner. Our reconnaissance earlier was really useful now for I knew there were several kilometres of flat, well a couple of tiny blips, that would take me and my pursuers into Spandau along, what I now realised, was the same road we used to get back into Berlin on Friday evening.

What is going on behind? Is there a pursuit? It would be good to know but for now its just a case of pressing on blindly, hell, the neutral service hasn’t even come up, are they really still that close? Stop worrying Bond, just get on with the job.
 
Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

I kept my head down as the road followed the waters edge and under the big viaduct I first encountered on Friday. There’s no point in worrying about what’s going on behind, I can’t change anything there, only my team mates can do that on my behalf, I hope. The road was quite wet along this bit, several stretches almost flooded but only by a couple of centimetres at most.

A slight rise to join the Spandau road meant a drier surface although there were a few bits of washout I had to swerve to avoid. I suppose I was a bit concerned that the usual convention with the service didn’t seem to be happening, I’m pretty sure I’ve got more than thirty seconds on the peloton.

At this point I should point out that its not a closed road event, in reality we get very few of those, no it’s a rolling closure, the Polizei stop the traffic, clear junctions and generally try to give the race and its convoy an unimpeded journey. Its a little more complicated today as we are racing in two Police authorities, Berlin and Brandenburg but you’d hardly know. The main thing as far as racing goes is that we have to obey the general rules of the road, ride on the right, obey road signs, you know the stuff, in theory other traffic should stop until we pass, in practice that doesn’t always happen.

The road went from asphalt to concrete as I followed the lead car into Spandau, it dries quickly but the joints are a pain, especially like here where the pads are quite small, maybe five metres between joins. Back in England the Tuxford ten course I used to ride had several miles of concrete but each pad was much bigger, maybe twenty five metres long – and the joins smoother. It was a combination of the road surface and the open road that were nearly my undoing.

After the first joint nearly unseated me, I moved my hands to the hoods for more stability and control, a bit slower but much safer. My concentration was on avoiding any big cracks or changes in height, hitting an edge could mean a puncture, wheel damage or an off, none of which were in my plans for the day. One minute the road between me and the lead car was empty, the next there was an ageing Opel Kadett just metres away.

Worse still, I was travelling some kph faster than the battered Omamobil, not only that but there was a bus heading towards us in the other lane. I’ve had close calls with motorised traffic before, its almost inevitable if you ride a bike on the public roads, bikes and their riders never come off very well in the exchange. There was a gap, a tiny gap, as long as nothing changed trajectory I might just make it, I think I might have closed my eyes.

I heard a screech of brakes a moment before a blast of car horn rent the air, I think my hand hit the car’s mirror on the way through, it certainly stung! I looked behind to see what was going on, not that there was much I could do, the car was now stopped and yep, the drivers mirror was hanging limply from the door. A quick check of my hand, well it was all working so I don’t think anything is broken.

Of course, all of this happened in mere seconds, as everything was still working I returned my attention to the job in hand. At least the Polizei had a firmer grip on the traffic at the next junction where I was able to swing straight through to the far lane taking a line not many bikes get the chance to use. I hadn’t picked up on it earlier but now, on the bike, I recognised this as the road we used to get to Spandau on Fridays sojourne, so over the river and then left at the lights.

There were a few spectators who cheered as I went through the turn and started the run back to Potsdam. This was indeed the way we came the other night, if my memory serves, the surface is quite good, at least on the bit we used to that Kladow place. What with the near collision and negotiating down town Spandau I’d forgotten about the race behind, that is until the neutral service and floating commisar came up behind as I crossed the next major junction.

At least I now knew I had a reasonable gap but can I hold onto it for the twenty five kilometres to Sanssouci? Once on the finishing circuit, well its less than fifteen to the finish line which apparently is right by the Sanssouci Palace, I’ll need a reasonable lead but I reckon its doable. I got back into aero mode and concentrated on going fast.
 

"Geez, where the hell did she go?” Daz exclaimed.
"Dunno how she does it but I wish I had some,” Gret lamented.

Gaby’s escape hadn’t gone unchallenged, the rest of the Apollinaris squad had however successfully quelled each counterattack on the drag past the tower, once over the crest the Weltmeisterin had seemingly just vanished. Not literally of course, but the nature of the descent gave a solo rider the advantage and the road since then had just enough turns that a lead of more than about two hundred metres would keep her out of sight from the pursuers. The last time they’d got any inkling of where she was was just after that big viaduct, they’d caught a brief glimpse of the flashing light on the lead car.

"We still need to keep the lid on this lot,” Josh mentioned, tilting his head towards the small group of rather insistent chasers just ahead of the three of them.
"I hope the others get back on,” Gret opined.

It had happened almost at the bottom of the descent, they’d crossed a patch of washout and next thing Mand had her arm raised for service. Tali stopped with her on the basis that its much easier for two to chase than one, hopefully they hadn’t lost them both to the cause.

"Just have ta give them a chance hen,” Captain Waugh replied.
"Draw a bit more sting?” Daz suggested.
"Its a risky tactic but aye, that corner in the town if you’re up for it Daz?”
"Okay.”
"What about me?” Gret asked.
"Play anchor, I’ll cover any counters.”

It all seemed a bit convoluted, launch an attack to slow things down, an attack on your own team mates lead at that. It could go badly wrong, on the other hand, if it worked they’d be five rather than three trying to control things.
 
Considering the wet earlier, the weather was now quite benign as Gab churned the pedals around towards Potsdam. It wasn’t hot like yesterday but it was quite warm and what little wind there was sat on her left shoulder. The roads were pretty much dry now, only the odd puddle or bit of curb side damp remained as a reminder of the earlier damp.

The Commisars motorbike came alongside with a time check as Gab passed the Gatow board.

P @ 1’57”

‘Hmm, bout flippin’ time’, she gave a nod and the bike dropped back.

‘Call it two minutes, not bad but is it enough?’ In these circumstances its difficult not to start running the figures, Mum and Dad would both tell her to concentrate on her effort but that’s easier said than done. ‘So there’s what, about fifty K to go, give or take, so if my lead bleeds at more than two seconds a kilometre I’m doomed.

Guess I need to stretch it out a bit more, the road’s not bad until after that Kladow place, I probably won’t gain anything on that climb through the woods though, time to knuckle under Gaby Bond!’
 
She dug in her pocket for a lump of Sonja Luchow’s flapjack, then after putting the calories in took another tug from her bidon to wash it down. Little and often was the mantra but how little and how often? Last week in Belgium the road was either going up or down, today’s more rolling terrain was a lot more conducive to time trialling and she was able to power along in the twelve sprocket at a goodly lick.

When she reached it, the Kladow climb seemed somewhat less than she remembered from their drive round earlier, a steady ramp rather than a steep incline although on the approach it did look like a veritable wall. One click of the gear shift kept her cadence steady as she passed a small group of club riders cheering her on just before the ‘summit’, well it was the effective top of the climb even if the road beyond still had an upward tilt despite looking flat.

She returned the chain to the twelve sprocket and pushed on. One moment she was keeping clear of the cars parked on the street, the next the surface changed to smoother, new tarmac, the road narrowed and cars were replaced by trees. Dieter had said something earlier about the old East / West border, that must’ve been it, from the former West Berlin back into Brandenburg.

The surface was great but it was still quite wet from the earlier rain, not in puddles rather the water sort of sat in the surface in places which then sprayed her feet as she rode over. And the road twisted about a fair bit too, no long straights as one turn blurred into the next. That would slow the bunch behind a bit but on her own she was free to choose her own line given the absence of any other traffic.

Past the entrance to some sort of sdhloss then it was a feeling through the pedals more than anything visible that suggested a downward tilt, click, time for the eleven! It didn’t last long, a short drop before running alongside what looked like the lake again, then it was a return to a false flat as the trees fell away to be replaced by derelict farmland, tall grasses surrounded by rusting wire fences. Not that she was exactly sightseeing of course. The surface became a bit more agricultural as the race entered a bit of a village, then they rejoined, if the signs were anything to go by, the main road into Potsdam.

It was a good road surface and after some damp on a short rise through some trees, dry and fast. The motorbike came back up with another time check.

5@ 1’53”
P@ 2’05”

‘Hmm, I’ve not gained anything but a loss of four seconds is nothing, but who are the chasers and do I need to worry?’

I was nearly caught unaware moments later when I was confronted by Polizei shouting and waving at me to go right. Oops. I dabbed the brakes and made the turn onto a wide boulevard that immediately took me into some dense woodland. Wow, I’m closer to the circuit than I thought, along this road for a bit and I’m there.

Out of the trees and the road stretched away dead straight, Dieter reckoned it was well over a kilometre, so if the chasers are two minutes ish back, I’ll just about be in sight still when they get where I am now. No point dwelling on it Bond, just get on with it.
 

‘The problem.’ Josh thought to himself, ‘with fancy plans is that they can go too right as well as very wrong.’ The sort of false counter attack he and Daz had made back in Spandau was supposed to slow the race down, on that score it had kind of worked. The problem was that it then encouraged a pursuit, a real pursuit by several of the opposition which had taken quite an effort to get onto.

So now here he was, in a chasing group of five doing his best not to contribute in chasing Gab down. Behind, the rest of the peloton were adrift by what looked to be about ten seconds, there were Apollinaris jerseys near the front but the team was now playing a sort of double jeopardy. There had been one stretch before they joined this main road when he thought he saw Ms Bond away in the distance, did she have enough gap, would all this effort be for nought?
 
The fields ended to be replaced with more trees, more open this time with some large houses set amongst the foliage. Not that Gaby was particularly interested beyond looking out for a newer housing estate that marked the final approach to the Sansoucci circuit and the feed zone. The road was no longer straight now, taking on a more sinuous route through long bends that restricted the line of sight to two hundred metres or less. At least the chasers wouldn’t see her so readily now, with any luck she was out of sight, out of mind, maybe.

There it was, not far now. Not far but it seemed to take an age to reach the junction even if it was only about a minute. She dropped a sprocket to go into the turn and stood on the pedals to power up the slight incline up to the park gate the race would exit twice before the finale. At the feed zone Dieter held a musette out, it wouldn’t contain much, a bottle and a gel most likely.

She grabbed the bag and sat up to transfer the contents to her bike and pockets, discarding the empties on the verge just before the gates. Time to get back to it, a quick draw on the fresh bidon and she was back in a tuck, elbows in, forearms resting across the bar tops leaving her hands free for the brakes and gears. The gardens and palaces of Sansoucci are of course of world renown but Gab had no time for sightseeing today.

It was back into the eleven as the wide road dropped straight through the parkland and into some more formal gardens. Since they’d come through earlier, the verges had sprouted barriers and a finish arch straddled the carriageway. The MC was doing his best to rouse the small crowd, at least he wasn’t fighting the elements now.

The crowd cheered, the ‘uplifting’ music boomed and Gaby was through, two laps of six kilometre to go. Left past the windmill then a sweeping drop past the Sansoucci Palace itself. Another junction had the little convoy heading for the town centre, in no time they were passing the start point at the Brandenburger Tor.

A stretch of dual carriageway took her away from the centre for a bit before they turned onto a side street, well more of a slide than an actual turn. Having not been on this part of the circuit Gab was a bit surprised when the entourage went into what looked like and indeed was, a bus terminus thingy. The reason became clear as they returned to the actual road, the little detour had avoided crossing some tram tracks that sliced the road at about forty five degrees.

It seemed that no sooner than they were back on the road than they were making another right back into the Royal parks. Gone was the tarmac replaced by compacted gravel which sucked speed from the bike almost immediately. On the plus side, the surface was at least mostly dry, it would’ve been horrendous in the wet a couple of hours ago.

No point in mashing a big gear, she dropped to the middle of the cassette and hoped it was enough. Things got a bit better and less sludgy under wheel when she broke clear of the trees and as they crossed the front of the Neues Palace she changed back up a gear. Well that was until the roadway started to climb what looked to be a decent hill but it remained quite firm so progress was quite good.

She took a look back as the roadway reached a slight crest, there, back in front of the Neues Palace were the chasers. If she could see them, they could see her.
 

Josh looked over the heads of his companions, up the seemingly never ending strip of gravel. The flashing light of the lead car was clear to see as it seemed to crawl up the incline ahead and whilst he couldn’t pick her out, somewhere where the motorbikes were would be Gabrielle Bond. If he could see her, so could the others with him. A glance at his comp gave him a start to do a time check, go on Gab!

The chasers still didn’t have much over the main bunch, it felt like they’d taken a few extra seconds on the first trip through the town but they hadn’t had a time check so it was purely guesswork.
 

"What do you reckon Mand?” Daz asked his teamate.
"We need to stay on top of this lot, a determined rider could make it across still.”
"They’d need to be pretty good,” Tal opined from behind them.
"You know what Herr Bond says,” Mand replied, "Expect the unexpected.”
"I guess,” the other girl allowed.
"Perhaps we should try a double double bluff,” Daz suggested.
"Such as?”
"Well, launch a pre-emptive strike, take their sting.”
"You’ve been listening to the Bond’s too much,” Tali suggested.
"It does have some appeal,” Mand allowed.
"When?” Tal asked with a sigh, "I’ll let Gret know whats going down.”
"Strike while the irons hot?” Daz suggested.
"It looks like it opens out just up there,” Mand proposed.

Today’s race seemed to be risky move after risky move Daz thought as Tali slipped away to their fourth rider and Manda readied herself for the latest bit of daft. The peloton was certainly restless, there’d already been a touch of wheels when they turned into the park, something was likely to snap and soon.

It was a pretty standard tactic but nonetheless it worked most of the time, one rider feints whilst the main protagonist waits, only going when their team mate sits up. Then it was on. Mand went from about sixth wheel, wide on the expansive driveway. There was maybe two seconds before the response, a surge of action from the front chasing de Vreen down.

Daz stayed in the wheels, following the action without actually contributing anything. Then it was over, Mand was swamped by the chasers, time for part two. A click of the gears and he was off, out of the saddle, sprinting up the inside as if his life depended on it.
 

‘two minutes – ish’, Josh mused as the chasers crested the rise, ‘tight for anyone but should be enough for Bond.’

He took a look behind, ‘sugar!’
 

Back out on the tarmac, Gab took a swig from her bottle before winding up the gears again and getting herself aero. Her tyres quickly changed colour as they shed the dirt from the gravel path, some damp on the road hastening the process as the finish line once again came into view. In the ten minutes or so the lap had taken, the crowd seemed to have at least doubled and the MC was talking up a storm.

"Go on Gaby!” Sonja yelled as she approached the line, others shouted stuff too but that was drowned out by the enthusiastic ringing oh the lap to go bell.

She kept the pressure on through the windmill turn, running out of gears on the sweeping right hander below the Schloss. It seemed further back into the town this time for some reason then there was the gate, the five kilometre to go board and the sharp right hander onto the dual carriageway. At least she was expecting the next turn this time which meant she could keep going full gas onto the smaller street.

With under ten minutes of racing left she knew she could do it, thing was, what about those behind? If they caught up to her would they, or she have anything left to contest a sprint? It was close last week, the climb of the Mur just giving her the edge, today though, well its a kilometre virtually straight downhill to the line, time enough to rest a little before the finale.

Another quick look behind didn’t reveal imminent danger of a catch so she notched things back slightly, no point in wasting energy.
 
Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
The peloton was in complete disarray, some riders still following Manda, others swapping their allegiance to following the second assault by Daz. Tali and Gret were doing their best to hamper things too, doing the anchor thing as riders set off in pursuit, it really was a free for all. Of course that was the plan, disrupt any vestige of organisation and eat into the energy reserves of the opposition.

Mand soon eased off, causing more consternation as riders found themselves being taken backwards even as another line chased her team mate down. The gap to the small chasing group shrank, by the time the gates came into view, they were within touching distance, Daz sat up, his job done.

At first annoyed, Josh quickly realised what was going on, a half hearted counter attack was easily quelled, as they turned onto Maulbeerallee to start lap two, the straggly remains of the main peloton were all together and seemingly waiting to see what came next. Would anyone take a flier? Had they drawn the oppositions sting? Gaby was out of sight, did that mean out of mind?
 

The ride along Geschwister Scholl Straße allowed Gaby to take on a last drink, no point in eating anything this close to the finish but even so she slipped a couple of gummi bears from her pocket, they might give a little sugar boost for that final climb through the park. She followed the lead car through the bus loop again, not far now girl, not far at all.

It seemed further to the park gates this time but eventually the lead entourage made the turn and the Linden Avenue stretched away towards the Neues Palace. She found a comfortable gear, the surface seemed drier this time, less sluggish at least. The climb was kept from view by the trees almost until the avenue ended but then there it was, the flat across the palace forecourt then the half kilometre climb back to the road.

She allowed herself a glance behind, is that the bunch? If it was they were closer than she thought but the continuing presence of the service bike suggested she still had plenty in hand. The Baroque Roccoco splendour of Frederick the Seconds palace were ignored, a mere backdrop to the drama acting out on the roadways of Sansoucci Park. Not wanting even the prospect of last weeks close call, Gab changed things up a notch in front of the palace and attacked the five hundred metre climb with gusto.
 

The lethargy of the peloton only lasted to their second crossing of the line, the clang of the bell galvanising a reaction. The Apollinaris riders could do little to halt this new urgency as the remnants of the race swept through central Potsdam at close on forty K. Did Gaby realise the danger creeping up from behind, Josh crossed his fingers, they’d done what they could but such a short, sixty six kilometre, race had reduced their options.

The main bunch, had certainly got the bit between their teeth, the distance between them and the lone leader was clearly decreasing, down from over two minutes the first lap to under one as they hit the last climb. The Apollinaris riders were all together, if their leader was caught they still needed to contest the finish. A thirty up sprint, Josh, never a strong sprinter, didn’t relish the prospect.
 

The back of Gab’s Pinarello had a bit of a squiggle as she turned back onto the tarmac, not now! Ignore it or look? A quick look between her legs was enough, the rear tyre was certainly low on air but with the bunch not far behind and the kilometre to go board just metres away, a wheel change would be suicidal, figuratively speaking. One kilometre, downhill at that, oh she’d haemorrhage some time, of course she would but she should make it.

Decision made, she got out of the saddle to lighten the load on the deflating tyre and started what was, in effect, a thousand metre sprint. At five hundred she had to sit down, immediately the bump of the valve each turn of the wheel was evident and the whole bike vibrated with the loss of any suspension the flat tyre usually gave. Back out of the saddle, there’s the finish arch, the strains of the PA changed from Bicycle Race to the excited MC, come on Gab.
 

As they passed the kilometre to go board, Josh drew a sigh of relief. Whilst the gap had been further closed, quite quickly it has to be said, there simply wasn’t enough road left to make the catch. There was Gaby, out of the saddle some five, six hundred metres ahead, she’d have to get off and walk to caught now.
 

Two hundred, one fifty, one hundred, the crowd screamed, the MC wailed, fifty metres, last effort – and it was over. The bike squirmed as she headed towards a grinning Dieter.

"Catch me!”

The bulk of the peloton swept in, clearly the sprinters were not to be denied their moment in the limelight even if they were only fighting over the minor placings.
 

"So in third place, last years winner, riding for Sporting Potsdam, Ulli Buntstedt!”

A tall, dark haired lad stepped onto the lowest step to loud cheering, well he is local.

"Second place, for RS Stahnsdorf, Herbert Strangmeier!”

Equally loud cheers accompanied another tall but this time red headed youth onto the dais.

"And our winner of this years Potsdamer Grand Prix, finishing on a flat tyre even, the current under eighteen girls Weltmeisterin, riding for the Apollinaris Radrennen Team, Gabrielle Bondt!”

The cheering was loud as I climbed the rostrum to the top step, the two lads on the lower steps still towering over me once I got there. By the slightly sour expressions, I don’t think news of my flat tyre had exactly endeared myself to them. Their problem not mine, I grinned and waved as trophies were awarded and podium pictures were taken.
 

The organisers had arranged for us to use the showers at the local secondary school, the Einstein Gymnasium, about a kilometre from the finish for which I was very grateful. Yeah the odour of damp, sweaty bike kit tends to linger so the chance to get properly clean before the journey home was appreciated by everyone.

"Right everyone, we’ve got a fairly tight schedule if everyone is to get their flights and trains,” Dieter advised as we reassembled at our transport.
"No dinner?” Josh asked.
"We have time for that,” we were told, "We just need to watch the time.”
"Phew!” I allowed, "Wasn’t looking forward to more airport food.”
"Its not the food, its the prices,” Daz put in.
"That as well,” I agreed.
"So where’re we eating Mr L?” Tali enquired.
"A place in the Altstadt, one of the officials recommended it,” Sonja volunteered, "We can walk from here.”
"Walk?” I complained for appearances.
"Its only about two hundred metres,” Sonja retorted, "Not far.”
"She’s winding you up Mama,” Gret stated.
"You’re no fun Luchow,” I pouted.
"Come on or there won’t be time for dessert,” Dieter opined.

Well I think it was more like three than two hundred metres but that's being nit picky, our destination, the Restaurant Dreimäderlhaus, was on the posh end of traditional German. In fact at first glance it was more like a posh cafe than a restaurant, tiled floor, kitchen style chairs, the décor a nod to the Baroque rather than the heavy wood often favoured in German eateries. We were soon installed around a table – well two pushed together, and perusing the menu.

"I still don’t get that you do this after every race,” Daz mentioned as we perused the menus. "Most we ever do at home is stop at Maccy D’s.”
"You’ll get used to it man,” Josh told him.
"Not complaining, i’m not really a burger lover, so what exactly is ‘spargel’?”
 

Obviously the talk around the table was largely about the race, each of us reliving our own bits of the drama, the drama, mechanicals, decisions that all together claimed the result. Of course luck plays a part, if it had been my front tyre going down for example, I would have had to call on the service. These post race debriefs are just as important a part as the build up, we all get to learn from how things play out, I know it often seems like I’m riding in my own little world but there is so much more going on that I’m not involved with that can affect the result.

I said the restaurant was traditional posh, the usual menu elements were all there, schnitzel, würst, pork in myriad variations, the posh bit was the lack of pommes, oh you could order fries but the meals had boiled or pureéd taters for the most part. For my part I had Leberknödel which came with mashed potatoes in a white sauce, the veg when it turned up, was a green leaf and carrot thing plonked on top, very arty and no doubt a contributor to the higher prices being charged.

I have to say that I was jealous of everyone’s meal, from Dieter’s pork knuckle to Tali’s liver and onions, if I’m ever this way again, this is where I’m eating. The desserts were a bit less exciting, a choice between lemon sorbet, cheesecake or ice cream, I opted for the ice cream. We passed on the coffee as time was by now getting on.
 

"Aren’t we going into Berlin?” Tali asked as we left Potsdam on the same road that we’d earlier returned on.
"Slight change of plan,” Dieter mentioned over his shoulder, "We’ll drop you three off in Spandau then whip around to the airport on the motorway, its the same train to Hamburg but we avoid taking the bus into the centre.”

Three? I hear you ask. Well Daz is staying with Josh for a couple of weeks, easier and cheaper than the commute from England.

"Makes sense like,” Josh noted.

It wasn’t a long way of course, quicker for being on the main drag and in under thirty minutes we were saying our farewells outside Spandau Hbf.

"See you in a couple of weeks then,” I offered giving Josh a quick hug.
"Aye hen, we can do it all over again.”
"Enjoy Hamburg Daz.”
"I’m sure I will, think we’re gonna do some tourist stuff.”
"Sure we’ll find something to do,” Josh suggested.

The three of them headed into the station, Dieter giving them a hand with the bags up to the platform.

"What time’s your flight?” Gret asked as we resettled into the bus.
"About half seven I think.”
"Bags of time, we can be in Cottbus in an hour thirty from here,” Sonja told us.

Hmm, four thirty, five thirty, yeah in theory plenty of time.

Dieter returned at a trot, "Okay, lets get you two to the airport.”

Of course it would’ve been far simpler if our flight had been out of Tegel airport a mere nine kilometres from Spandau according to the signs, no we have to go to Schönefeld which is best part of forty kilometres away around the Südring. At least the traffic wasn’t too bad, which is just as well, its only two lane most of the way and it wouldn’t take much to see it snarled up.

"That’s Tempelhof,” Gret pointed across the motorway to a big empty area.
"Right,” I allowed a little bemused.
"You know,” Gret went on, "The Airlift?”
"Course.”

The name did seem vaguely familiar from school, something to do with the Cold War? I soon forgot about that as we dropped off the motorway and made our way to the airport drop off.

"You gonna be okay?” Dieter asked for the hundredth time, okay that’s exaggerating a bit but it wasn’t the first time.
"Yeah, its the easy bit now.”
"Thanks for you know organising stuff,” Mand told him.
"I’ve enjoyed it, wouldn’t want to do it every week but its been good fun.”
"I’ll tell Dad his job’s safe then.”
"From me at least,” Dieter noted.

We did the farewell bit and watched as the Luchow’s departed before heading into the terminal building.
 

On our arrival, was it really just two days ago? Anyhow, when we got here it was all a mad dash to get away and to the hotel which meant we didn’t really look at our surroundings. Today things are a bit more relaxed and we were able to take in our surroundings a bit more.

Frankfurt or even Köln/Bonn it is not, no Schönefeld is a much more modest affair. We eventually located a trolley, loaded the bikes and cases and between us made our way towards the check in desks. At Frankfurt there are whole banks of desks for each airline, here Air Berlin had just two, only one of which was open, we joined the queue, Mand taking charge of our paperwork.

You know what its like, there’s always someone with overweight bags or the wrong paperwork, the bags of time you thought you had seems to disappear at an alarming rate. We didn’t get just one check in blocker but two which finally prompted them to open the second desk as the queue now snaked halfway around the concourse. I thought the family in front of us were going to hold things up but they didn’t, we were checked in and on our way to drop the bikes at the oversize drop while the blockers at the first desk were still arguing the toss over the additional cost of their over weight, over size luggage.

"Phew! I thought we were gonna be there forever.” Mand opined.
"Tell me about it, did you see the size of that case?”

Its a small airport, the oversize drop was only a few metres away and within a couple of minutes we were heading through to the departure lounges.

"Still half an hour before they call the flight,” Mand advised after checking the departure board, "Coffee?”
"Good idea,” I agreed before my attention was caught by a shop selling tourist tat. "Tell you what, you get the coffee and I’ll meet you in a minute, I’ll give you the money.”
“’kay, the usual?”
"Of course.”
 

Most airports have something similar, a shop selling ‘souvenirs’ from the local region, why all the UK ones sell London stuff is beyond me, you don’t get Berlin stuff at Frankfurt. Anyhow, I wasn’t looking for me, I got a lifetime supply of Berlin tat on the school trip, no, I thought I’d get something for Drea. London tat is all red buses, black taxis and telephone boxes, Berlin its the Brandenburg Gate, Trabants and for some obscure reason, rubber ducks!

I perused the various wares, t-shirts, snow globes and toy cars but I settled on one of the rubber ducks, for some reason wearing a sort of dirndl. I know, weird but it appealed to my sense of the absurd and I’m sure Drea will like it. I did double up, a nice pink T with ‘BERLIN’ in sparkly letters on the front, I wasn’t sure of size so I went for the four to five years, if its too big it’ll save.

"You took your time,” Mand noted when I found her at the coffee bar, "I got you a blueberry muffin.”
"Cheers.”
"So what did you get?”
"A T for Drea.”
"You spoil that kid.”
"Someone has to.”
"If you say so.”
"Bern and Marty don’t have a lot of money.”
"I know but they’re not exactly on the streets are they? Plenty of people would like to be in their boots.”

She wasn’t wrong of course, compared to many in a similar position they were well off, two supportive families, a roof over their heads, yeah there wasn’t much for luxuries but there was food on the table and they seem happy enough. I still feel some responsibility though, Drea isn’t responsible for what went on before, if I can brighten her life a little with the occasional treat or gift, well I can afford it.

"Gab, Ga-ab.”
"Um?” I returned my attention to the now, "Wassup?”
"Finish up, they’ve just called the flight.”
"I thought we had fifteen minutes still?”
"That was fifteen minutes ago.”
"Sugar!”

What was left of my coffee was by now luke warm, I gulped the last of it down, grabbed my bag and the untouched American muffin and rushed to catch up with de Vreen’s departing back. How comes even the smallest airports have gates miles from the lounges? It felt like we and a trickle of others, were walking to the back of beyond, when we reached the gate, beyond was still a bit further on!

At least this queue was less stressed, if you get this far you’ve jumped through all the hoops. I dug out my handy while we waited for the gate to open.

"Who are you ringing?” de Vreen enquired.
"No one, just sending Dad a text so we get picked up.”
"Will they be back yet.”
"He said so.”
"We could just get the train.”
"With the bike boxes? And you have to get to the station in a bus first.”
"Taxi?”
"We’ll try Dad first.”

"Have your boarding cards ready please.”

I hit send for the SMS and we started the plane boarding shuffle.
 
Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

The flight was unremarkable, the light was just starting to fade when we landed, it will be dark before we get home. Of course you have to turn your Handy off during the flight so we were at the carousel waiting for our bags before I remembered to turn it back on.

"Dad’s picking us up,” I told my companion.
"Great, I wasn’t looking forward to making our own way back.”
"Just need the bags to come through.”
"I’ve just seen the bikes, you get the cases and I’ll get a trolley and fetch the bikes.”
“’kay.”

Do they intentionally take a long time or do I expect too much? I know they have to get them off the plane and into the building but us passengers have to do the same journey on foot and we get to the luggage hall well before the bags! Tonight that meant Mand got back to me with the bikes before the belt finally burst into life.

Of course, whilst our bags started the journey together, by now they had been separated, for a change mine came out almost straight away, it was Manda’s that we had to wait for. My phone pinged with a new message just as the missing bag made its appearance.

‘at p/u point D.’

I quickly rattled off a quick reply.

‘on way, G’

"So?” Mand asked as she heaved her bag onto the trolley.
"He’s outside at the pickup.”
"What’re we waiting for?”
"Have to have a wee on the way.”
 

It’s a bit of a maze to reach the pick up zone so by the time we’d both used the facilities and exited the building, nearly fifteen minutes had passed from the exchange of texts in the luggage hall.

"I thought you’d got lost,” Dad offered in greeting.
"Its a long walk.” I complained.
"We had a stop at the toilets,” Mand mentioned as we reached the team bus.
"Thought you’d be in the car?”
"Bike boxes?” Dad stated.
"Oh right.” okay, I’m blonde.
"So I hear congratulations are in order,” Pater suggested.
"How’d you know?”
"Dieter rang just before I set off to fetch you.”

Well that sort of made sense.

It didn’t take long to get the bags loaded up and we were soon on the autobahn towards Bonn and our destination some twenty five kilometres beyond.
 
Back at Bond Acres Mum had the kettle on and the makings of a cold supper occupied the kitchen table.

"Good weekend?” Mum asked as we sat ourselves around the table.
"Pretty good, we did that RTF thing yesterday and I won today,” I enthused, "Oh Dad?”
"Ot oh, what?” Dad queried.
"Dunno whether Dieter said but I had a puncture coming into the finish so I rode in on a flat.”
"He didn’t, we’ll get it sorted.”
"So when did you guys get back?” Mand asked my parents.
"Just after lunch, we had a leisurely run from the hotel,” Mum advised.
"How’d it go yesterday?” I asked.
"It went,” Mum allowed with a poker face.
"What your mother means to say is,“ Dad started, "You aren’t the only winner this weekend.”
"You won?” I exclaimed.
"Guilty as charged,” Mum admitted.

It was close to midnight by the time races had been relived, news exchanged and supper consumed, there would no doubt be more of the same in the coming days but one of us had college in the morning. I was out like a lamp.
 

I guess its the same for everyone, the feeling of, I dunno, loss maybe, after a trip away, the return to the mundane, the normality of our regular routine. And so it was the following morning that I was feeling a bit down after the weekend not just in Berlin but in Berlin doing stuff with my friends.

"You okay?” Max enquired as I strapped myself in to Olaf’s rear seat for the commute to Koblenz.
"Yeah, just a bit tired,” I lied.
"So a good weekend? How was Berlin? Win your race?”
"Yes, okay and yes.”
"Thought you might’ve rung when you got back.”
"It was late, I pretty much went straight to bed,” another little fib.
"You were in Berlin?” our driver queried.
"It was sort of convenient for our rides.”
"So no sightseeing then?”
"Not really, Saturday we were riding in the Spreewald and Sunday’s race was at Potsdam.”
"Ah, Sansoucci with all the palaces.”
"I think we’ve got some rels from there,” Max put in.
"You’ve got rels everywhere Max,” Freddy noted.
"The race finished in Sansoucci,” I got in, "There was a finishing circuit that went through the town and past some of the palaces.”
"Nice,” Olaf allowed.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, the usual round of lectures, library study and the solitary ride home on the train. I was still feeling a bit low, out of sorts when I got home.

"I’m back!” I called out, someone was in but I wasn’t sure who.
"Lounge,” Mum called back.

I dropped my bags on the stairs and went through to the living room where I found Mum ironing with some inane day time TV playing.

"Thought you’d be out training,” I opined.
"Day off,” she grinned, "Two hours this morning. Anyway, there something you want to tell me?”
"Eh? Don’t think so, nothing I can think of.”
"What about this?” she held up something from one of the piles of ironing, "If I’d known you liked this stuff I’d have bought you some.”
"It was Sonja.”
"Sonja, Greta’s mum? Why would she buy you this?” she waved the accursed garment about a bit.
"I, we didn’t have anything to wear after the ride so she went to the Klick and bought us stuff to go to dinner.”
"She bought stuff for ten year olds?”
"No, well kind of, she got everyone shorts and T’s but that’s all they had in my sort of size okay.”
"You wore this to a restaurant?”
"I said didn’t I? You want tea.”
"Please,” she smirked, clearly the thought of her seventeen year old daughter wearing the childish garment tickled her funny bone.
 

"So you girls got cheerleading tonight?” Mum enquired when I returned with our tea.
"Yeah, we’ve got a display thing up at Adenau on Saturday, that family sports day thing?”
"I thought your father said you were racing both days this weekend?”
"I still have to get the team ready, I am the coach after all.”
"I can’t keep up with all the stuff you do.”
"Ooh! Just had a thought, could you iron my Kostum pretty please, we start with the dinners at the Sebenschuh’s on Thursday.”
"I suppose so, you’d best get Manda’s as well, I take it she’s doing it too?”
"Yeah, she’s anyone’s for a euro.”
"I hope not literally?”
"What do you mean?”

She gave me a look, you know, the one with a raised eyebrow.

Then it clicked, what I’d said. "Er no, you know what I mean though.”
"Get your dresses then you can start on the tea.”
"Its a bit early isn’t it?”
"You two are out and your father and me have to go to a meeting tonight.”
My curiosity was piqued, "Meeting?”
"Just some team stuff. The programme for the next few weeks.”
"So why’s Dad need to go?”
"He is part of the team management. Frocks?”
"Oh right, yeah.”

I fetched the dirndls, in truth they don’t usually get ironed, apart from the aprons but start of a new season, show willing and all that – except I’m crap at ironing so getting Mum to do it is a win. Tea wasn’t going to be a major production, Mum had bought some spargel back from the low countries so we were having schnitzel, spargel and boiled taters with Hollandaise sauce. She’d already defrosted the chicken for the schnitzel so that gave me the fun part to do, knocking seven bells out of it with the mallet!
 

Thump! Thump! Thump!…...Thump! Thump! Thump!

"What are you doing?” Mand asked from the doorway.
"Dinner,” I advised, turning the poor piece of meat over again.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

"Which is?”
"Schnitzel,” Thump! "Spargel,” Thump! "And taters,” Thump! Thump! Thump!
"You do know its already dead?”
"Har de ha.”
"Anything I can do?”
"Put the steamer on, oh and fill the kettle please.”
"Think I can manage that.”

I moved the first fillet to one side and prepared to marmalise the next.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

"So,” I started, "You coming to cheer?”
"Guess it wouldn’t hurt, I am a bit stiff today.”
"That’ll be that riding stuff.”
"Probably,” she agreed, "You want this kettle on?”
"Please, oh and can you get the griddle from the pantry.”
"Yes oh master.”
"Huh, can’t get the staff these days.”
"I could do crépes for after?”

On the other hand…

"There’s batter in the freezer,” we usually make up a load and freeze it, after all, you never know when you’ll need it for Yorkshire puds or pancakes.
 

"How long’s dinner kiddo?” Dad enquired a few minutes later.
“’bout fifteen now you’re here.”
"You sound like your mother.”

Is that a good thing? Dad disappeared, I guess to wash up, and I turned my attention to the food which was all just waiting to be cooked. Spargel in the steamer, the spuds were already ‘resting’ in a bowl, bit of oil on the gridle, the Hollandaise was, I’ll admit, shop bought but it still needs warming up.

"Ten minutes!” I yelled in the general direction of the lounge.
 

I must be sickening for something, I’ve not had pommes for three days! Anyway, the food must’ve been okay, conversation around the table was minimal, the only sounds appreciative grunts. It’s simple food, difficult to get too wrong but plenty of people would shy off making it from scratch.

"So no pizza tonight?” I suggested as we waited for Mand and her crépes.
"Not sure how long this meeting is gonna take,” Dad pointed out.
"It shouldn’t be that late Dave,” Mum put in.
"Maybe,” Pater allowed.
"Tell you what kiddo,” Mum started, we’ll pick some up on our way back, that place by the station is open on Mondays, the usual?”
"Pepperoni with olives.”
"There are other options,” Dad pointed out.
"And?”
"Just saying.”

Mand returned with the dessert, for someone who can burn water, she makes a fine crépe, thanks to her occasional employment on Eva Foch’s mobile crépe trailer. I slathered mine with chocolate spread and a dollop of cherry consomme, squirty cream on top et voila, Schwarzwald crépe, yum!

With no parent taxi to get up to Altenahr we had a choice of bikes or Mofa and given it looked like rain, the Mofas won out. Okay, we could’ve ridden up quicker, but its nice to arrive somewhere without being all sweaty plus its easier to carry our stuff. At least we weren’t doubling up, Mand has temporary loan of my sister’s machine so it was the sound of two machines that rent the early evening air.

Whilst I’m quite happy riding a bike on the roads, I always feel vulnerable on the Mofa, maybe its the remote power or perhaps something with the balance, anyhow, we can use the bike tracks so that’s what we did. Summer weekends the bike path can be quite busy, evenings in late spring less so, most of the ‘traffic’ we encountered involved dogs and their owners. We probably won’t return this way, well two girls, remote path, I’m not that daft, well usually.

Hannah was just opening up when we pulled into the carpark.

"Well timed ladies.”
"We try,” Mand grinned.
"Glad you’re here Manda, I’ve got something for you.”

Han pushed the door opened and members of the All Star Cheer hurried past us.

"For me?” Mands queried.
"Don’t ask me,” I replied with a shrug before following the others into the Tanzklub.
 

"So, everyone know what they’re doing on Saturday?” Hannah asked.

I might be ‘head’ coach but its Hannah who does pretty much all the organisational stuff for the group, liaising with the committee, transport to events and so on. Its not that I couldn’t but I simply don’t have the time with my other commitments.

There were mumbles of agreement, before she went on, "Over to you Gaby.”
"Oh right.” I’d been thinking about supper rather than cheering, "Sorry I can’t be there on Saturday, just remember, enjoy yourselves and next week we’ll start on the new routine for the regionals.”
"Just before we finish,” Han added, "A quick announcement, Manda, if you can come forward.”

A bemused de Vreen stepped forward to join me and Han.

"As you know, Manda’s been coming along for a while now to help with her fitness for her cycle racing. Well we finally convinced her to join the All Star properly, so Amanda, welcome to the team.”

There was a bit of cheering from the other girls.

Han went on, "And so you can join us in Ahrweiler next week, here’s your uniform!”
"Er thanks,” a slightly bewildered de Vreen allowed.
"Try it on,” Lisse called out.
"Lets see it Mand,” Kristin added.
"Sounds fair to me,” I told her with a grin.
 

"You knew Gaby Bond,” Mand accused.
"I swear, I didn’t, not until she got the bag from the office. You going home like that?”

At this point I should mention she was stood in the All Star Cheer uniform and trainers. Now whilst the uniform isn’t revealing or anything, the skirt is, well short and the body doesn’t leave a great deal to the imagination, you might wear less at the pool but its not exactly street wear. She didn’t even have hose on!

"What do you think?”
"I think you’ll get arrested riding a Mofa like that.”
"And what was the photo for?”
"I dunno, maybe someone in say Stuttgart might be interested?”
"Who’s in Stu….ah.”
"Hmm?”

Its usually me doing the blushing but not this time and I’ll call it quits with regard to the unicorn business on Saturday.

"Say thank you to tante Gaby.”
"Gaby Bond!”
"No need to thank me.”

I was still chortling to myself when Han returned from checking the building.

"Manda?”
"Just getting changed, shouldn’t be long.”
"So what are you chuckling about?”
"Nothing really, just something from the weekend.”
"How was Berlin?”
"Still there.”
"Ha! That’s where I did my teaching degree, at der Künste Berlin.”
"Really?”
"Yep two years in a dingy flat in Charlottenburg.”
"Thats where we stayed, opposite the bahnhof, didn’t think it was that bad.”
"I was near Goethe Straße, it probably wasn’t that bad but give me the Ahrtal any day.”
"Isn’t there like a great nightlife in Berlin?”
"Didn’t think that was your thing?”
"Well it isn’t really, but the media go on about all the clubs and venues.”
"I suppose its okay in small doses but when you live there, to be honest all you want is somewhere quiet, I wish I’d got digs in Spandau or Potsdam, I had friends out there and they had a better time even with the commuting. So where are you thinking of for university?”
"My sister’s at Heidelberg which seems pretty nice.”
"The Student Prince eh?”
"Hmm?”
"Well in your case Prinzessin,” she smirked, "It’s an old film based on a play I think, the Prince goes to Heidelberg university.”
"Ah.”
"So that where you want to go?”
"Its a possibility, my tutor has suggested Freiberg, down in the Schwarzwald, they have a good management school. Anyway, it could all be moot, going to Uni that is.”
"Sounds interesting.”
"Well, I guess I can tell you, but it goes no further right?”

She mimed zipping her lips, "They won’t hear it from me , whoever they are.”
"So, last week, the band had a meeting, you know sort out stuff after the tour, that sort of thing. Anyway, apparently a record label had made an approach, we could be making the big time!”
"You’ll give up college and everything?”
"Might have to.”
"What about your racing, I thought you wanted to follow your mama?”

I was saved from answering by the return of de Vreen.

"That’s better, you ready Bond?”
"Er yeah, best get back in case supper turns up early.”
Hannah laughed, "You and your stomach Gaby.”
 
Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
There was no sign of the olds when we got back to Dernau but I guess it was still early really.

"So you gonna send that picture to Sophia then?” I asked as we climbed up into the house after parking the Mofas.
"No and don’t you dare!”
"Spoilsport,” I mumped.
"Just put the kettle on.”
"How small do you think I am?”
"Eh? What are you,” then the penny dropped, "Har, har.”
 

It was gone ten when my Handy trilled to advise that someone was trying to get hold of me.

"Hello.”
"Gaby?”
"Who else would it be Mum?”
"I dunno, you could’ve asked Manda to answer.”
She had a point, "I guess, so what’s up?”
"This meeting has got a bit involved kiddo, I don’t think we’ll be back before midnight.”
I sighed, "No pizza then?”
"Sorry kiddo.”
"We’ll live, so what’s so complicated about your race schedule?”
"Lets just say there are other issues.”
"George?”
"Look, we’ll bring you up to speed tomorrow, I need to get back but I thought we’d best let you know about the food, or lack thereof.”
"Okay,” by the tone of her voice, further conversation was not on the cards, "See you tomorrow then.”

"Everything okay?” Mand enquired when I ended the call, "Sounded a bit serious.”
"It is, the meeting’s still going on so no pizza.”
"That is serious,” she rolled her eyes, "Honestly Gab, you and your stomach.”
"Its a very nice stomach.”
"So what’s taking so long, at the meeting that is?”
"She wouldn’t say, all will be revealed tomorrow apparently.”
"Fair enough.”
"You still want some supper?”
"Maybe, what’re you thinking?”
"Toasties? I spotted a sliced loaf in the bread box earlier.”
"Cheese and?”
"And whatever you fancy.”
"Works for me.”

Yeah, its not just me who can eat for the nation!
 
"So?”

The olds had resisted all attempts by me to get information about last nights meeting before I went to college, seven hours later I was fit to burst with curiosity.

"Its complicated,” Dad told me again, "And don’t you have some training to do?”
"Ooo!”

He wasn’t wrong, you can’t expect to get results without putting the effort in, natural talent will get you so far but as recent experience has shown, there are lots of riders out there that want the win every bit as much as me, maybe even more. So yes I need to train as much as the next girl, more if I want to stay at the top of the game.

"So when?” I whined.
"After dinner, I promise,” Dad reassured.
"Hmmph!”
 

"Which way’re we going?” Mand enquired as we mounted our steeds about fifteen minutes later.
"Effelsburg? Come back down the river?”
"Make a change from the Ring.”
"Yeah, what I thought.”

Of course, even taking the Münstereifel road requires doing the leg up to Altenahr first which pushes the distance for this evenings ride close to ninety K, further than Sundays race! We set off into the warm evening, bidons full, pockets stuffed with bananas, gels and energy bars not forgetting race capes, well there’s the off chance of some damp but it can get cool on long descents and we’ve got over sixty kilometres from Blankenheim chasing the Ahr back home.

"They said anything?” Mand enquired as we settled into a steady rhythm on the road round to Mayschoß.
"Not a bean,” I admitted, "Dad said they’ll tell us after dinner.”
"Can’t be anything too bad then,” she opined in reply.
"Or its so bad they’re putting it off.”
"What do you think then?”
"Well its obviously something to do with the team.”
"Dur! Coulda told you that.”
"You did ask.”
"Whatever it is can’t be too bad or they would’ve said I’m sure.”
"I guess,” I allowed.

Unlike last night when we went up the bike path on the Mofas, today we’re sticking to the road up to Altenahr. Its just easier to keep a steady speed going when you aren’t dodging tree roots and other lumps and bumps that the bike path seems beset with. Not saying the road is perfect but three years of riding it, often multiple times each week means I literally do know every lump, bump and pothole between Dernau and Alrenahr.

Mand went for the Tunnel sprint of course, catching me on the hop as I waved to Hannah over at the Tanzklub. By the time I’d gathered myself to give chase she had twenty lengths on me, I let her go, its a long ride yet.

"One to me,” she crowed when I caught up to her as we passed Kristen’s place.
"Wasn’t ready.”
"She says, I get you there every time.”
"Not every,” I stated in my defence, "I beat you the other week.”
"I punctured,” she pointed out.
"Alls fair in love and war.”
"Ninety nine point nine percent,” she emphasised.

We threaded our way through the town, just beating the level crossing closing as we exited toward Altenburg and the new bypass. Back over the railway lines into Kreuzberg, over the river and it was good bye Ahrtal for a good hour. I’ve described this road for you in the past, the slow, bendy climb up to Binzenbach before tackling the hairpins up to Effelsburg.

We chatted about this and that as we rode along at a comfortable thirty ish kph, both acutely aware that we’d both be out for Brownie points on Binzenbach climb. Numerically I’ve got more ‘wins’ but its been quite close a few times and I think Mand beat me on the last two times. Not only that, but its the last ‘proper’ climb on this evenings circuit, I will have my revenge for the tunnel!

 
The conversation dried as we passed the mine memorial thing, a couple of old carts with an information board, there are a few old copper mines in these hills, Mum’ll tell you more if you really need to know. Anyhow, we each went through our checks, re-tensioning shoes, loosening neck zips, stowing glasses, you know the score. Past the fire station and its pretty much three kilometres to the top, not super steep but challenging nevertheless.

Its quite wide and even through the wooded bits there’s a wide grass verge, certainly nothing like most of the climbs around here. The speed dipped a bit on the first ramp, Mand matching me pedal stroke for pedal stroke, not sure whether she’s gained strength or confidence, maybe both, since coming to Germany – a year ago I would’ve been a lot more certain of getting to the top first. Its only two, three hundred metres between most of the turns, maxing out at about seven or eight percent, no, the time to attack is on the steeper bit after the last hairpin.

I let Mand set the pace by dint of easing slightly through turn two, but all was not as it seems. Nope, I didn’t pull right up alongside on the straight, rather I started to half wheel my companion, thereby actually forcing her to ride harder than she might otherwise choose. Bit sneaky I know but like I said before, love and war and all that.

"Gabee!” a rider going down called out with a wave just before we reached turn three, Hen from the Wielersport by the shock of red hair.

I lifted the fingers on my left hand in recognition, he’d be surprised if I did more when we are clearly giving it some uphill.

Our speed may have dropped but we were still doing around twenty as we climbed towards the last tight corner. We were now both ‘aglow’, neither wishing to give the other an inch in this battle for supremacy. I checked which sprocket I was in, seventeen, great, I can drop into fifteen for my attack, quick drink first though.

A couple of two wheeled organ donors roared past far too close as we went into the turn, boots almost scrapping the tarmac before roaring off through the trees.

"Idiots,” Mand muttered.
I could only agree, "Yeah.”

Although it got a bit steeper after the bend, it was still almost two hundred metres to the steepest bit. Even so, the pace was clearly getting to my companion, she flicked into a bigger sprocket and I grinned to myself, today de Vreen, this climb is mine. I had intended waiting a bit longer but I couldn’t miss the opportunity could I, click, out of the saddle and hit the turbo.
 

I stayed on the gas, out of the saddle and in the fifteen right up to the ten percent ramp where I reverted to a more sustainable ratio and riding style. Out of the trees and the gradient eased which let me get my breath back a bit but I’ve paid the price by sitting up here before. Not tonight Amanda de Vreen, not tonight, I got right back into it, its still best part of a kilometre to the recognised top, the point where the road crosses from the Rhineland Palatinate into the NRW with a handy board to mark said border.

There wasn’t a lot of traffic which was just as well given the speed of perhaps the same bikers passing me going back down the hill, well over a hundred K if I’m any judge. Not far now Bond, the road straightened and I could just make out the sign, sunlight leaking through the trees at the corner beyond. Its essentially flat on this bit, I heaved on the pedals to get on top of successive gears, I was churning the twelve around at nearly thirty five kph when I reached the sign.

Oh yeah, Bond does it again! I changed back down and sat up, looking behind to see where Mand was. Which was nowhere. Sugar, I made a u turn and started back along the straight.
 

"You all right?” I asked as I did a sort of moving dismount.
"Just about,” she allowed.
"What happened? Puncture?” I enquired as she picked herself out of the ditch.
"Stupid effing motorbikes, came around the bend on the wrong side, I kind of dived for the edge, hit something and poing,” she mimed flying through the air with her hands.

I rescued her steed from where it had landed about ten metres away, at first glance it looked to be okay. By now she was stood up, it was anger rather than pain on her face.

"You wanna go back or I can phone Dad?” I offered.
"I’m okay, really, we should press on, we’ve still got a way to go.”
"If you’re sure, we can cut short.”
"Gab, just get on your bike, anyone would think you were looking for an excuse to abandon the ride.”
"As if!” I blustered.
"Come on then, times a wastin’.”

My third ride past the Effelsburg summit was a bit slower than the first two, my ‘victory’ for the climb felt somewhat hollow in light of Manda’s potentially terminal encounter with the dumkopf motorader. I know I’ve had a few close shaves over the years, I guess most cyclists have but for some reason this incident has shaken me up more than if it had been me on the sharp end. We rode along towards Bad Münstereifel, Mand exclaiming imminent vengeance on motorised two wheelers, me mostly in silence.
 

"Sign!” Mand gleefully announced even as she launched.

Damn, caught on the hop again, in my defence I was thinking about Mands ‘incident’. I gave chase but much like the tunnel at Altenahr, she got the drop on me good and proper. I did close the gap by the name board but there was no denying I’d come off second best.

"Two-oo nil, two nil,” she sang whilst doing a bit of a saddle samba.

I guess claiming the climb would be a bit churlish but it did galvanise me a bit. The sign is actually quite a way out of the town, a pell mell decent into the Erftal, joining the valley road almost opposite the bahnhof. I’ve got ‘lost’ a couple of times trying to transit the town but of course, on a bike you can simply ride straight through the middle which is what we did now, there are a few cobbles to contend with but nothing too bad.

We joined the fifty one for Blankenheim some twenty five K south, its a road that can be busy, very busy but tea time mid week its not that bad. We usually turn at Emerscheide to cut across to the Ahr, its a bit lumpy that way, the extra kilometres on tonight's route sort of balances things.
 

"I think the bars are a bit out,” Mand observed as we approached Holzmühlheim.
"You wanna stop?”
"Its not by much, nothing drastic.”
“’kay.”
"Sign!”

Hah, I was ready for her this time, I saw the sign a bit back as we started the drop towards the village. A quick check for traffic and I let fly. The few metres she had claimed disappeared long before we reached the board, I got there a clear bike length ahead.

"I’ll give you that one.”
"Give me?” I spluttered, "I got you by miles.”
"If you say so.”

Clearly the off has shaken something loose in de Vreen’s head, give me the win, cheeky moo!

The climb to reach Tonsdorf always catches me out, its neither long nor steep but loops up the hillside at a steady seven percent, enough to tire the legs and reduce your speed. On the plus side, its a great run down into the town, almost two kilometres of downhill joy. There was no sprint for the name board this time as we were riding the bumpers for some distance beforehand, part of a steady stream of cars who’d passed us over the last few kilometres, probably late commutes.

We lost the traffic after the town and found ourselves doing bit and bit the rest of the way to the turn for Blankenheim. The two five eight avoids the main town and soon we were tracing the infant Ahr as it starts its journey to the Rhein some seventy kilometres away as the river flows. The road is quite good, a bit up and down in places but the general trend, as you might expect, is down.

My computer was claiming a bit over sixty kilometres when we turned at Műsch, – who came up with these names? I got the sign, almost by default as it was literally just after the turn. The next fifteen K are on a much smaller road, the valley deeper and narrower than higher or lower down. We went for all the name boards, I got Antweiler but Mand got Fuchshofen and we called a draw for Schuld. Insul would be the last chance on tonight’s ride, we don’t go for anything back down the main valley as we are supposed to be cooling down, there is no way she’s gonna get the drop on me tonight!

Clearly Manda hadn’t read the script, we both knew where the sign was, we both launched at the same time, Mand gaining about a half wheel advantage before I swept past to claim the victory, four three, it should’ve been five except for her off on the climb.

"Void!”
"Eh?” I allowed as I freewheeled along, still punching the air.
"Void!” she repeated, "My handlebars are loose, I had to sit up.”
"Don’t look very loose to me.”
"Well I need to tighten them to get back.”

What can you do? She was stopped and playing with her multitool before I got back to her.

"Half a turn,” she espoused, "They started to move when I got out of the saddle, well dodgy.”
"Yeah,” I agreed, "Well dodgy.”

Somehow I think I’ve been played, those bars were tight when I checked after her off, okay, possibly a little out of line but definitely tight. Surely she would have noticed before if it was loose, these things don’t spontaneously undo themselves.

"Come on then, I’m starving.”
"So what do you reckon?”
"Think Mum said spag bol.”
"Not the food, the news, really Gabs, you are a bit slow today.”

Hmm, slow am I?
 
Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023