She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me ...................

Regular readers will be well versed with my love hate relationship with my new bike. I have had a couple of rides where she has behaved wonderfully, the rest, well, she behaved as though I had been shagging her sister. Threw me off more times than I remember and I'm still nursing the injuries from her Cross Fell strop.

So Thursday night rolls around and just me Jase and Weester out. We had picked the only fine day of the current monsoon and it was warm too. I was in short sleeves all night! We set off from Weesters with a plan of the usual 3 downs ride..... Kennels, ICR  and San Marino.

Jase fookin battered me up to Horrocks Fold Car park, the twat, I was blowing out of my arse straight away. Weester, rather predictably was faffing with his shock here for a while. We took the rocky track up to Burnt Edge and the bike was pedaling very well. Since sorting the fork out and putting a bit more pressure in the back, its felt a different bike, so much so that I flew up the rocks with out one dab! Still shagged out at the top though. The Sun had already sunk beyond the horizon so we missed it setting but the red night sky looked ace.

Along past the old reservoir and we hit the road to the Kennels. Stopped here and was buzzed for fucking ages by a paraglider with a big fucking noisy fan on his back. Talk about ruining the moment.. sounded like a set of bee's buzzing us all night. Still, at least he didnt gob on us.

Lights on for the Kennel run which was properly slippy at the top but not too back lower down. I minced the chute AGAIN... I really cant get the monkey off my back with this chute after falling off here probably about 4 years ago. This did not instill me with much confidence for the ICR. However, Fork was working well and I remembered my theory that perhaps this bike needs thrashing to get the best out of it.

So as we spun past a load of girls up on the moors on their own at this ungodly hour (!?!) I hit the ICR without even stopping to regroup. Bang... the bike just came alive, probably the fastest I've come down here for ages, even jumped off the Tarmac Ramp! The rocks were just eaten up by the bike an I pedalled hard all the way down! Utterly buzzing at the bottom!!

Fun over, the climb back up through the garden was nice and easy and then we flew down to the Hole in't Wall. Chatted to a couple of jocksters from Preston and then started the long climb. I never seem to get to the top of this climb without a stitch, again Jason, the bastard, battering me and weester up it. He then set of at a roaring fucking pace up the mast road. By the time we hit the top of San Marino, I was incapable of speech. Quick pause at the top and I mention to the lads that Donk had blogged that it had got a few new ruts from the recent rains, and we agreed to take it easy. However, I set off and, once again the bike felt wonderful, rock steady and held every line I pointed it at. I was at the forest gate before I knew what was happening, totally pumped! Fantastic. Weester picked up a puncture so, being total fucking gents, we waited for him, listening to his whoops and curses as he found the ruts at the bottom.

Spin back along the road was ace with a tow from the two in front, they headed to the pub I headed for home, being skint. What a bastard.

So, tonight at least, she loved me and I loved her. I feel true love may soon be blossoming!