Adieu to the “Yellow Peril”

I’ve hinted in previous posts that the days of my Yellow Orrell bike were numbered. Sadly, it has gone to the bike rack in the sky to be recycled thanks to Andrew Millest’s ministrations. My farewell tribute follows:-

Adieu to the Yellow Peril

We’ve been cycling buddies for more than 10 years.

We’ve been through a lot as I’ve changed through the gears.

You’ve been there for me like a pal I could trust.

I’ve seen the real you through the muck and the rust.

There has been the odd time we’ve gone sep’rate ways

with me on the ground in a bit of a daze

and you ending up in a terrible tangle

mudguards askew, handlebars at an angle.

No fault of yours, chuck, just me being dim,

putting at risk precious bike, life and limb.

 

Like the time on LEJOG: out of Keswick we “clumb”

My bag caught Dave’s front brake and down we did come.

I’ve skidded on diesel, I’ve bounced on a rut,

escaped with abrasions, bruised hip, the odd cut.

Worse still, with back tyre and ego deflated,

my mates stood around and the outcome debated.

They know I’m quite useless with technical stuff.

Why’s everyone else a mechanical buff?

I’m the exception. I don’t have a clue

and when they’re all watching, I get in a stew.

 

It will still be great to get back on a bike,

ride quiet country lanes with Stan, Dave, Bill and Mike.

We’ll ride single file when there’s traffic about:

“Car back”; “Coming through”; and such like we will shout.

So as you go past us, allow us some room.

Old geezers might wobble and even Chris Froome

has come to grief in the peleton’s scramble.

Overtake on blind bend’s one hell of a gamble.

The guy on the Orrell may be a right pest.

Just give him a wide berth. He’s doing his best.

 

Yellow Peril, your steel frame has had its last ride.

No more will you roam with this rider astride.

Your crank shaft is shafted. You head into the sun

and your days on the roads are over and done.

It’s time to dismantle and take you apart.

As you’re recycled, there’s a place in my heart,

a hollow, a void. Call me sentimental,

but when we have cycled in downpours torrential

or baked under skies as in 2018,

saying “Goodbye” is so hard. It’s obscene.

Advertisements

4 comments

  1. STEPHEN JOSEPH · August 7

    Well done. You have done more for that bike with your pen than others did with their spanners… you gave it immortality. Love Ann-Marie🌹

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

    Like

  2. hugokensdale · August 7

    Bloody brilliant that Phil! X

    Like

  3. Sam Baker - Olympus Trophies · August 8

    Hey Phil

    So sorry to hear about the poor old yellow peril!! A very moving tribute to a fine old rusty steed. My condolences kind sir

    Sam

    Like

  4. mph26 · August 9

    One can feel so much nostalgia for a long-loved vehicle when the time comes to say farewell. I’ve just had to scrap my sixteen-year-old Vauxhall Agila, which saved me faithfully for almost 120,000 miles. I know how you feel!Mark.Mark P. Henderson   Writer, editor, folktale collector, storyteller.      Author of Folktales of the Peak District,       Cruel and Unusual Punnishments,       and other works.   Secretary, “Write from the Heart”.http://www.markphenderson.com/tel.: 07397 164551

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s