Something else happened to me yesterday and it’s been a bit of a decision as to whether I post about it or not. I like to share what I can with this blog but sometimes it’s a borderline judgment as to whether I should write about it or not.
I feel in this case, I should share my experience with you, in case you ever find yourself in a similar position.
My journey home wasn’t quite as straightforward as I made out in my previous post. I had a run in with a lorry which led to an incident that I’d rather just erase form my mind forever.
As per usual in this country, they’re digging up the roads around where I live yet again and so it’s a slalom course just to reach my front door. As I turned off the main road into the residential maze where I live, a tipper truck was reversing to unload some ballast into a newly dug hole.
I waited until he stopped reversing. The road weasel directing him looked at me and then shouted something at the driver, which I assumed was to let me past. I went to go around the lorry and drew level, just at the same time he decided that he wanted to pull away again. Fortunately, he saw me in his mirror but I still had to unclip and hop up onto the grass verge to avoid a DKNWHY pancake.
Next, came the toot of the horn and a string of expletives from the cab. I don’t bother to retaliate in these situations anymore for the simple fact that it just achieves nothing and since having a family to support, I try to avoid confrontation.
I think it was more communication thing but in future, I will exercise more caution and wait until I’m entirely certain that my route is safe. Lesson learnt.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the end of my problem. I put the bike in the garage and set about removing my glasses and helmet. Something was bothering me though, a distinctive odour. Dog faeces.
I looked around and then it dawned on me, when I unclipped and had that brief dismount onto the grass verge, I’d found the only spot of grass in the locality that had a higher ratio of shit than grass. My heart sank as the bile began to rise.
For people that know me, I’m a little OCD about cleanliness and dog shit is up there with my biggest hates. In my opinion, people that don’t clean up after their dog should be shot or at least put on nappy duty in a retirement home. I detest them but would piss on them if they were on fire, just for the simple excuse to clean up after myself and teach them how to do it.
I now had a situation. How the hell do you clean dog shit from a set of Look Keo Classic carbon pedals and cleats?
Fortunately, the pedals were only lightly soiled so a baby wipe and a spray of disinfectant did the job but the cleats were a different story.
First, I tried taking the disinfectant spray and a hose pipe to offending shoe. It was more a hopeful, token effort though as we both knew it was a futile attempt. It was going to be a big job, removing the big job.
So, I’m above the sink, trying not to gag as I take an allen key to the cleat bolts. I end up removing them all and then with a mix of chemicals and scalding water get it all clean and begin the refit process. I think I’m finished but still can’t shift the aroma from my nostrils. Then I see it, the offending piece, wedged into the bottom of the hex hole on the bolt. I wanted to scream. What am I going to do now??!! Armed with a selection of cotton buds, I set to work and after minutes of toil finished the clean before throwing myself into the shower where I almost sat sobbing, reminiscent of that scene in The Crying Game.
Now that it’s out in the open, I never want to speak of this incident again.
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