BurbleChaz

Another trip to Chadstone. I behaved so well (as I should - she was shopping for my birthday), that I was allowed to take the bike out again.

We stowed the big camera (Canon EOS300D with 300mm lens) inside its padded bag, inside a padded rucksack and pootled down to Westgate Park. I was under strict orders to stay on the road, avoid rough surfaces and to refrain from jumping anything. A brief, direct conversation made it clear that, in this context, 'anything' included leaves, manholes, kerbs, gaping holes and Anything Else At All I Mean It. So I pretented to be a roadie and led off at a fixed cadence. I only jumped a few times. Mostly small things. Mostly.

We cycled through Westgate Park to the lakes, where I handed over the camera and left the Serious Photographer in a lovely sheltered spot watching the birds on the lake, while I hared off round the trails.

I was shaving seconds off my laptime with every circuit. Optimizing every corner - in early, brake harder, power on sooner, out faster. In my penultimate lap I ran off the track three times. A sign of enthusiasm over competence. Just as I started my final, really, truly, final lap, my phone went. Apparently, there were coot chicks to look at. I had a hard decision to make - a fast, bike-damaging, bone-rearranging crash, or fluffy baby birds. I still say I made the right call.