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@Hairingtons
In 1992 I went on holiday with my best mate from school, Carl, and his family. It was a Butlins style holiday park. But this was the place that the people who went to Butlins looked down upon.
Carl and I were 14. We were into football, crap music and cider. This holiday afforded us the chance to indulge in none of these pastimes.
There was a beach where you could see some oil-rigs, an arcade with gambling machines we weren’t allowed to play, and a group of girls, who we were chased away from, by a group of boys.
Oh, and…there was cable TV.
I had never had cable TV.
I had never seen the Tour de France.
But on the third day of our holiday I switched on the TV, flicked through the exotic European TV channels and paused as I chanced upon something totally alien. A bike race. A ‘live’ bike race. Complete with fuzzy pictures and glorious helicopter shots and mad rambling commentary.
I was mesmerized by the way the peloton moved - so fluid and alive. The sea of colours seemed to work as one, but within the kaleidoscope of bodies I could see matching outfits - separate teams, but seemingly in co-operation with each other.
That was it. I had the bug. I didn’t know what I was watching, but I couldn’t stop. I spent the rest of the holiday glued to the TV. In 4 days time I would arrive home in Teesside. Carl would no longer be my best friend. Football would no longer be my sport of choice. Cycling was the future.
Bikes would be bought. Posters would be posted. Idols would be adored. Miles would be ridden. Clubs would be joined. Legs would be shaved. Races would be lost.
And here I am many years later. I’ve just bought a Merckx Corsa Extra in Telekom colours to build up. By total coincidence it is from 1992. I just realised the significance of this. To me at least.
I apologise for the lengthy prologue. But, fuck it, it's the most insincere apology you could imagine, ‘cos this is my first real 'project' bike.
And it’s for the 14 year old me.