Saturday, 6 June 2009

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

The rain came down. The four horsemen looked at each other, eyes cold as steel. The Internet Millionaire raised his right hand and they were off. The Whippersnapper broke from the front and led the way. He had to be told where to turn left.

In twos they stalked the Surrey lanes. Neddy drove past in his little car and proffered the one fingered salute. The Engineer said something about a highway code. The others just shrugged, and the rain came down.

The Cowardly Lion felt both brave and afraid, so he took it easy, biding his time. The lanes narrowed, and the dung of a thousand nags filled the nostrils. The Whippersnapper whipped and snapped his steed through the plethora of manure, flick flack. They talked of permission slips, sausages, fortunes won and lost, and the rain came down.

Neddy rode through again, still buzzing like an angry wasp, this time The Engineer just motioned as if to say, what ya gonna do? We did nothing, more than Neddy deserved.

Little Switzerland opened her canton like arms and the horsemen rode bravely on, some more than most. Swooping, darting, and the rain came down.

At the foot of the mountains, The Cowardly Lion stole past and pushed to the bottom of the zig zags. He waited, the four regrouped. The Cowardly Lion pushed on and soon his fellow horsemen were whispers on the breeze. He eased and The Whippersnapper pulled alongside. They sized each other up, without giving anything away. Whippersnapper pushed on and suddenly, from nowhere, like a true entrepreneur, The Internet Millionaire rode past. A diet of LBP-20 was too pure for most, but he could cope. The Engineer followed, he wore a mask of indifference, and somehow he knew he would be first to the tea shop.

Treacle tart, coffee and drizzle. Talk of world domination.

Homeward bound, the lanes were devoured like long strings of tarmac spaghetti. Italian. They hit Regalinos and ordered lattes ‘n’ macchiatos. They rode on and shortly after they split. The Cowardly Lion attacked a short, steep hill which burned then he coasted home, no brakes, even some swooping. He crossed the wild plains of Little Woodcote Estate. He caught a flat, ten yards from home, and the rain came down.

Epic Ride.

With thanks to Grahame, Marco and Bryn

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