I guess it is an indication of how dramatically my life has changed in recent time that, having gone to bed at 10 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, I also thought little of getting up at 4.30 a.m. on New Year’s Day to go for a ride up some hills. It hadn’t taken long to decide that waking up before 4 to ride to Paddles’ place for the trip to Lake Leschenaultia was a bit too much even for a rider as notoriously tough as me, so I took the easy option and drove to Myaree.

I parked up at Chez Paddles just as a party over the road was winding down and the weary revellers were departing. Yet more opportunity to ponder advancing years. Soon after Stuey appeared through the early morning light and the three of us set out to meet Blinder.

There was a convivial atmosphere as we commenced our trip towards the hills, with the usual banter and chit-chat about Christmas. Things soon took a rather disturbing twist however as Paddles informed us all whether our backsides had grown noticeably over the Christmas period. Perhaps in an attempt to ensure that Paddles could not maintain a good view of his posterior, Stuey swerved off the bike path and on to the gravel. Regaining the path at a sharp angle, for a moment it appeared that we were all going to celebrating the new year with some nasty road rash. Amazingly we all managed to stay upright though, in the melee, notorious puncture-merchant Stuey’s tyre blew out with a sharp crack. This gave us an opportunity to stop and ponder our lucky stars, take a “comfort break” and to discuss whether Stuey was a realistic contender for “The rider with no fixed nickname’s” mantle of least competent Coglione. Unfortunately for Stuey it was decided that perhaps he should have gone over the handlebars, down the embankment and into a thorn-bush to mount a genuine challenge for this prestigious honour.

Fortunately the rest of the trip was incident free. The cool conditions and light wind made the ascent of Welshpool Road and the climb from Mundaring Weir as pleasant as could realistically be expected. The relaxed atmosphere allowed ample opportunity to enter detailed discussions on varied film subjects including Mel Gibson and Forrest Gump, and who’d have known that Blinder was such a Tom Cruise aficionado?

With such engrossing repartee, the 75km to Chidlow fair flew by. Before we knew it, we were stocking up on chocolate milk and fruit cake to take to the lake while we awaited the arrival of our families. In my limitless wisdom, I decided that it would be nice to take a cup of coffee and that it should be no problem slipping it into a bottle holder for the couple of kms down to the lake. How wrong I was. Within seconds, the lid was off and coffee was splashing liberally on to the road. Time for plan B. I would hold the coffee in my left hand and ride one handed. Apart from mild scalding to my hand and leg, this was going relatively well until I realised that there was a sharp rise ahead, that I was in the big chainring and furthermore, that there was no way I could remedy this with a cup of coffee in my left hand hand. Weaving wildly down hill, I managed to shift the coffee to my right hand and get into the small chainring, but I was still stuck halfway up the cassette. I gritted my teeth and made it to the entrance of Lake Leschenaultia with at least a couple of mouthfuls of coffee still in my cup. A small victory against a backdrop of merciless ribbing from Stuey.

Blinder had gone ahead and secured us a large covered area to use for the day. We still had plenty of time for a lengthy discussion of poodle-rock bands of the 1980s before Stuey’s and Paddles’ families arrived and the bombie contests began in earnest. Bif (the only one of us with enough of a social life to preclude riding with such an early start) and family arrived a little later followed by the Blinders and Spunkers.

All-in-all a terrific ride and a fantastic day. Hopefully it will grow into a firm fixture on the Coglioni calendar.