The man from Hawkesbury River...

[Chuck]

There were ripples on the lattes as the morning rumour spread,
That a cash prize had been offered for the ride,
The one they did each Sunday, a thousand dollars it was said,
A row of fancy bikes was parked outside.

All the tried and noted riders from the Coast and further West
Had gathered there for brunch at ten a.m.
For the locals liked hard riding if it's followed by a feast,
And the coastal slopes are made for such as them.

There was Henderson, who made his name when racing Malvern Stars,
The old man with his lycra faded white
Yet few could stay beside him when he got out on the tar,
He could go wherever man and bike could ride.

And Glancy of Big Yengo, came down to try his luck
No finer rider put a foot on pedal
He finished the states best time trial, the day his brakes got stuck
And he crossed the finish line mid smoke filled metal.

And one was there, a wimpy guy, on a step-through ladies' frame,
A one-speed thing with old sprung leather seat,
And a rear brake you backpedalled when the time for stopping came,
And rubber pedals neath the young blokes feet.

But the man looked tough and wirey – the sort that nare say die
Like the fastest road race riders often are
And his bike was built to take whatever came from up on high
Even with the basket on the handlebars.

But the frame was somewhat rusty, one would doubt its power to stay,
And the old man said, 'That bike will never do,
For a long and tiring road race – lad, you'd better stop away,
These hills are far too tough for such as you.'

So he waited sad and wistful – only Glancy stood his friend
'I think we ought to let him come,' he said;
'I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his bike and he are mountain bred.'

'He hails from up the Watagan, by Mangrove mountain side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a mountain bike would fall apart, on every other ride,
And the man that holds his own up there, is more than good enough.'

So he went, but on the first ascent, the town boys had formed a group
and they cranked away, and shifted down the gears,
And the old man gave his orders, "guys, I think it's time to jump,
It's the last one into town who buys the beers.

And, Glancy, you must catch them, stay with them early on.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never there was rider who could catch the peleton,
If they're out in front when coming down the hills.

So Glancy rode to catch them – he was cranking out'a treat
And his feet flew round and round like bloody hell,
And he led the group of chasers – all were riding off the seat
their licra well advantaged by the gel.

And fast the town boys pedalled up the highway hills
Where the eager watchers gathered on the side
And the old man muttered fiercely 'We haven't got a hope':
No man can catch them down the other side.'

When they reached the highway summit, even Clancy took a pull,
It well might make the boldest whisper 'Jeez',
The slope was one in four and the corners bloody full
One slip would mean much more than skin off knees.

But the man from from up the Watagan let the one-speed just freewheel,
And he turned his head around and gave a cheer,
And he passed some of the town boys as their brakes began to squeal,
The peleton looked on in serious fear.

He sent the gravel flying, but the bike was tracking sweet,
The potholes hardly bounced his rapid glide,
And the man from up the Watagan never shifted in his seat
It was grand to see that mountain biker ride.

Through the red lights and the stop signs and the parked cars all around
Down the hillsides at a tearing pace he went;
And he never pedalled backwards till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the townies as they climbed the final Hill,
The watchers back in Gosford standing mute,
Saw his pedals turning madly, he was right among them still,
As he raced along up Daleys in pursuit.

Then they lost him for a moment, a thing they won't forget
But a final glimpse reveals he's still right there,
On a dim and distant hillside with the town boys racing yet,
The Man from up the Watagan at their wheels.

And as the shadows lengthened, he passed the thinning pack
Taking one by one in rapid time
Till he pedalled down the Esplanade, with the sunset at his back
And with daylight fading quickly, crossed finish line.

But his trusty ladies' step-through looked a bit the worse than not
With sagging saddle and a very worn out chain,
With dodgy rims and hammered tires and bearings glowing hot
It looked as though she'd never ride again.

So among the cappuccinos in the café by the Bay,
Where the men in lycra tell their stories tall
The Man from up the Watagan is a household word today
His bike with pride still hanging, right there on the cafe wall.

Anon

[generdawg]

As he raced along up Daleys in pursuit.

Wow, right in my back yard!

[Shirley]

Wow, very good pity it is Anon.

[Keevo52]

excelent !

[supersparky]

Some of the lycra lads at work are going to love this. Good one Mr Anon.

[Col49]

Some of my MTB friends would be amused by this with our $5K bikes we own.
I enjoyed the read.
Col

[T1 Terry]

If it was down South Aust way I'd say the story was about Homeless (Brian), quite a peddler in his younger days.
I love these urban rewrite of the classics, a lot of skill to get the theme to stay true yet tell a different story. Thumbs up to both the writer and Chuck for sharing it with us.

[homeless]

Well I did ride my first few races and lots of training on Mum's old bike even had the wire frame for shopping on the handle bars and the carrier over the back wheels.
Dad would not let me get a PROPER racing bike till I won a race.
Even then I only got a second hand one and it did me for many years. Never did have a new one or even the right gears but had a lot of fun and represented the state a few times.
Fancy gears is not the only thing you need to succeed.
Regards
Brian

[generdawg]

Fancy gear(s) is not the only thing you need to succeed.

Sure glad you clarified that Brian.

[homeless]

I had a track suit well before the in people.
I used to train in the winter before daylight and I wore a jumper on my legs to keep warm, sat on the neck part.
I get a laugh of the licra group who ride to work in the licra and then change for work and then repeat to ride home.
The gears were the sprockets between the chain LOL.
Went to Aussie champs and I had to ride a few gears below the allowed limit as Dad said if I was good enough I could win on any gear.
The finish was down in incline for over a mile. Photo said I got fourth but did not get in the first 10 in the results. Came from the wrong state and wrong area.
How things have changed, with the institute of sports and all the assistance they get now.
Regards
Brian