In Which Bob has a Rendezvous with a Female Admirer

“Do you mind if I sit with you”, Bob asked the mysterious lady seated at the Warburton coffee shop, at the same time pulling in his stomach and flexing his calf muscles provocatively.

“Please do, young man”, came the encouraging reply. As Bob pulled up his chair his heart rate meter started to smoke and he immediately began to recount epic stories of his cycling exploits, all placed sometime way back in the pre-steroidal bicycle dreamtime.

We all wondered where this could lead to, as we watched Bob with awe. His new friend certainly seemed interested as she coyly rotated her coffee cup and batted her eye enticingly. Was this the legendary Warburton siren that had lured so many vulnerable cyclists to their destruction? Would Bob’s life ever be the same again? Would he now start shaving his legs TWICE every day? Apart from John Dawson’s flat tyre, up to that point it had been a relatively uneventful ride. Now Bob’s raging hormones were bound to get him into serious trouble.

Not wishing to cramp Bob’s style I decided to divert attention away by picking up a copy of the Herald Sun. I turned over the first page and was immediately confronted by a story about a group of retirement home residents who had decided to make their own nude calendar. Why is that once a person turns 75 they feel like they immediately become irresistible to the opposite sex?

As the other riders gathered around to read the story they started up a somewhat predictable refrain. “I could be Mr January”, said Peter. “Mr July sounds more like me”, added Lex. “I bet I could get a couple of my old girlfriends to make a guest appearance”, dreamt John. This was rapidly getting out of control. “We could sell them on the web-site”, suggested Warren.

I decided I had to take action and announced “I think it’s time we left”. Bob’s new female friend looked a little disappointed as she picked up her teeth, hearing aid and walking stick and shuffled to the door. “I can’t take you guys anywhere without being embarrassed”, I firmly reprimanded.

Bob looked a little sheepish as he finally relaxed his leg muscles and started to breathe normally again. “I hope she’s here again next week, I could show her some of my medals”.

The cool afternoon air helped to dampen testosterone levels as we faced the familiar return ride. Although Eddie had held his distance on the outward transit, we could not be sure that he would be equally circumspect on the return ride. With John Dawson proudly wearing his yellow jersey we made an impressive sight as we rode in uniformed formation towards Woori Yallock.

I was actually a little disappointed when Eddie decided to stay on the lamp post and watch us from a safe distance. We even tried some taunts and jeers but he could not be provoked. Either his hormones are retreating or he has finally realised that he cannot break the indomitable spirit of the Warbies.

After dropping some of the riders we were left with just Bob, Little John and me to make the ride back to Mt Evelyn. I was somewhat pleased to see that the trail is (slowly) starting to harden after all the extra toppings that have been added in the past few months. Also plainly evident is the steady increase in the length of daylight.

With less than 3 months to Christmas it is almost time to start dropping hints as to what type of bike related presents we would like to get.