Rhodes Rhitual – The Day of Gathering.

Clansmen,

I would like to acknowledge the traditional owners of this email and thank them for allowing us to commune in this sacred place.

Today is a special day, one that has occurred rarely throughout the millennia and, as such, must not pass unacknowledged……..

For today is the Day of Gathering. 

For it is written that the Day of the Gathering is the Time of the Quickening, when all of the Heroes of the Clans meet, cast off the yokes of their mortal bodies, and transcend this world, metamorphosing to embodiments of their highest potential – Easy Riders. 

The Riders of the Highlands of the North assembled at the place where the Old Ones foretold this very morning. They were ready, faces chiseled as hard as their reputations; loins tense and taut with the importance (not impotence) of this day. Great men of Wisdom and Deed from all the Clans of the North converging to fulfill the promise of their Ancestry and bloodline.

Bullet McSporrin arrived with the sun at his back to be greeted by many a merry “Och Aye!” from members of the Highland Brethren including SatNav McLean, BT McTavish and Derek McDerek. Spirits were high at the prospect of the morning ritual of feasting, wassailing and visual pheasant plucking – not the least was the hearty favour being poured upon the bonny maiden Justine McBride.

The mood quickly turned at the arrival of Drastic MacBeth, Overlord and Chieftain of the North’s most feared Clan. 

“Brothers, our time has come. We ride.”

“But we are not all here, MacBeth,” protested Young Robbie “Contador” McCain, “Where is the Prince of the Pymble Clan; Phantom the Bruce?”

“His is an awesome undertaking,” replied MacBeth, “I have read in the runes that he is to go before and prepare the way for the Quickening. He will meet us in the place of the Standing Stones – The Turra Bowlo. Will you accompany us?”

Robbie McCain shuffled uncomfortably, “Noble Drastic, my wife is heavy with our third child and is fearful of bringing the bairn in the world without a father. She is calling me to be at her side during this time.”

“Three bairns…………..? Ah, McCain, you’ve done it again!” Came the call of the Clansmen. And off they went.

Pouring out the North, the Clansmen rampaged toward the West, strengthening their forces as they went; they were joined by The Laird of Warrawee – Fergus the Mighty, Chippo of Aberdeen Angus and  Bucky McBagel. Leading the charge was MacBeth with Derek McDerek nipping at his heels like a cranky border collie.

On a distant range, the melancholy moan to “Speed Bonny Boat” could be heard, singing the Clansmen to their Spiritual home – The Standing Stones of Turra Bowlo.

Suddenly there was a hissing noise that sounded like air being squeezed out of those sad pipes; Derek McDerek ground to a halt as his ride could no longer proceed – flat tyre. Drastic MacBeth forged on in blind resolve.

“Flat tyre, Drastic!” cried Bullet, “We must wait! We are Highlanders! We cannot leave him lest he perish!

“There can be only one, McSporrin! That is the Way of the Quickening!”

Drastic MacBeth was not sighted again until after much pillaging, looting, hooting and tooting he was found at Bullet McCafe, idling time in the company of Half a Haggis, Phil McCavity and Andy……….McDaid (eh?).  

Arrival of the Clans quickly brought talk of The Quickening, and it was agreed that they would push North to The Standing Stones of the Turra Bowlo  at the earliest time possible; there to drink ale, gorge on red meat, tatties and neeps; and “fling” naked around the Standing Stones in honour of the Day of Gathering.

This is what it is to be Easy Riders…………………………….. well, maybe not the “flinging” naked bit.

Rhodes Rhampage

Rhodes: The final frontier….

These are the voyages of the Starship, Easy Rider
Its weekly mission;

• To explore strange new routes
• To seek out new coffee stops and new species of fauna
• To boldly commute where no cyclist has commuted before.

Star Date 151010.

Six Alliance members assembled for Federation briefings in the Kisso Constellation:

• Commander Spock Phanto
• First Officer Yuri SatNav
• Ships Engineer “Scotty” Chippo
• Ships Doctor “Bones” Bullet
• Lieutenant TFS Sulu
• Ensign Richard “Lynskey” Uhura

Transmissions had been intercepted that the Rhomulans were planning a raid on the Bullet System (Federation member) looting, pillaging and generally absconding in a strategic play to secure viewing rights to the wealth of resources on display during the celestial event known as the Aurora Fauna Occulus. The raiding party was headed by non-other than the Evil Rhomulan Warlord - Half Khan, ably abetted by the Dastardly Commander Beebs.

The point of attack was said to be out of the Marshmallow Nebuli.

In the absence of The Captain (on extended furlough) Commander Spock Phantom took the helm;

“Gentlemen, the logical course of action would be to reach the Bullet System before the Rhomulans, commandeer the strategic positions, use the element of surprise to gain the advantage, and negotiate a peaceful treaty.”

Bones Bullet retorted, “And just how do you plan to do that, Pin Ears? The Marshmallow Nebuli is far and away the most direct route. They’ll be there parsecs before us.”

Satnav concurred adding, “Ve vill be a long vay behind and wery much slower, according to ze co-ordinets, Keptin….. excuse me, Kommenda.”

“Then we haven’t a moment to lose,” replied Spock Phantom, “Mr Chippo, prepare for the jump to hyperspace, set thrust to a warp factor of 8.”

“Hoots, toots, och aye the noo, Commander! She’s only just had a service and the new Dilithium Crahnkset  hasne  bin ron in, but I’ll do ma’ best .“ replied Scotty Chippo.

Strapping themselves in for an intergalactic adventure against impossible odds Spock gave the command, “Jump to Hyperspace!”

Bones grumbled, “Of all hair-brained, pin headed, Vulcan ideas……. I wish the Captain was here.”

As the Universe dissolved into an algorithmic equation, the space time continuum prolapsed creating a vortex of pulsating energy that hurtled the Easy Rider through space at mind bending speeds. The Meadowbank Miasma became a vapour of perception, the Concordia Belt slipped seamlessly through view and the Five Dock Black Hole remained just that. 

Before you could say “I seem to having a problem with my lifestyle” the Easy Rider was traversing the Lilyfield Asteroid belt. Spock looked at his Parsecometer. 

“Mr Chippo, we can still make it. Can you go any faster….”

“She’s givin me all she’s gort, Comander. Ah canna do eny more. If ah doo shill break ento pieces” cried the desperate Chief Engineer.

“Then divert all power from the shields and re-direct to the main engines! Do it now!”

“Ah dornt know if it’ll werk and it’ll leave us vulnerable to the Rhomulans. Half Khan taekes nor prisoners!” Chippo protested in his thickest Scottish brogue.

“That’s an order, Mr Chippo!”

“You’ll kill us all you Logic obsessed Pixie!” Bones Bullet howled.

“We’re almost there. Set water bottles to stun, let’s not start an intergalactic incident unless they squirt first.”

The Easy Rider arrived at the Bullet System ahead of the Rhomulans traversing the Western Galaxy in an incredible 60 parsecs to secure the prime viewing positions for occurrence of the Aurora Fauna Occulus.

Half Kahn was indignant in defeat, “Curse you Spock, I will have my revenge. Make mine a latte.”

All’s well, order restored to the Universe.

Rhodes Rhesponse - Media Approved

**Media Release - Clearance Approved**

Due to certain recent events, accusations have been made centring on two core issues. I refer to reports by Mr SatNav yesterday via email which clearly state:

    1.“Bullet may have to re-spray his Astana coloured Trek for fear of guilt by association,” and 2.“- his escalation in form in his 7 months of riding has been quite remarkable.....”

Whilst loathe to dignify such spurious claims that verge on outrageous at best and libellous at worst,  with any sort of response;  I am compelled to protect my reputation which has been called into question; the damage from which  I may never recover.

To the first point:

There can be no question that I gain an advantage from riding such an attractive two-wheeled steed as this. However, it does not so much enhance my riding performance as diminish that of the peloton.

I empathise with you as ponder the delicate interplay of pastel colours, the clean lines and divine decals, the subtle Euro styling – let’s face it, it’s downright hot! I too would be spellbound by such a sight, my legs too would go to jelly, and my impetus to drive onwards would desert me. I don’t blame you; you’re only human, after all.

I can only apologise for that which Providence has deigned to bless me in ample abundance….. it’s a burden, but one I carry with appropriate martyrdom.

To the second point:

I admit that recent tests have returned higher than normal levels of clenbuterol in my system. This is merely a coincidence with my more famous and almost as handsome counterpart. Though uncommon, there is recorded evidence that increased levels of clenbuterol can result from ingesting meat such as beef; the animal being fed the substance in order to reduce fat and create a leaner product.

Independent analysts and medical specialist have been poring over my case in recent hours and have identified the source of this uncommon occurrence in my body chemistry. They have searched, investigated, drilled down, eliminated through process and derived the only possible explanation that can be supported by science – bagels.

We have identified an EWOTY stop in previous weeks where one of the Comrades entreated the group to partake of his bagel in his absence for fear that the establishment would no longer support his dependence – nay, addiction – to the said pastry. I in my naivety agreed and consumed the item, unaware of the calamitous ramifications of this simple action. I never knew that a bagel was made from beef – but there you go. 

The person who made this request I will not name (Mr Bucky), as it is not in my nature to slur a colleague – even when subterfuge and conspiracy have been at play - unlike Mr SatNav, who has seen a target and taken a pot shot with little regard to outcomes and long term effects.

I will continue to work to clear my name, commute with my heart on my sleeve, pee into a jar on demand and never, ever, ever, eat another bagel.

I have nothing to hide, but will not be taking questions.

Rhodes Rangers

For heightened reading experience, please use the following link for the purposes of underscore http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iteRKvRKFA

6.20am – Standing  in the front of the mirror looking resplendent in latest bike porn purchase from www.ridemeallthewaytotheoffice.com “Yes Bullet, you still got it.”

6.26am – Kisso. First to arrive. Then there was one.

6.30am – Phantom arrives debonair as always styled by Santini (plug for sponsor). Fails to notice bike porn. Humph. Then there were 2.

6.33am – B2B brethren arrive and immediately threatened by ER’s in dashing kit. We head off.

6.35am – Kisso and Commenara lights. PD pulls up. No oil painting but always welcome on board. Then there were 3.

6.38am – Climb out of Brown’s Waterhole. Encounter Bucky trapped in winter wardrobe. Cutting a smooth euro line in Bucky Couture – alluring yet understated.  Then there were 4.

6.40am – Top of the Waterhole. Chippo awaits. Enigmatic. Cool and casual as always. How does that man look so good? Whispers of concern that he may return to sandals as the weather warms, God forbid. Then there were 5.

6.41am – First roundabout. Eric meets the Magnificents, limping on a loaner as he awaits insurance assessors. Gaudy in Orange (I think), I defer to his 5 days in a row commute. Legs burning with pain, cheeks flushing with self-consciousness as he espies Phantom’s pret-a-commute wear. The Benchmark. Then there were 6.

6.43am – Epping Road lights. Richard-on- Lynskey joins the party. Kinda punk, a bit retro, always cool. Lynskey cassette chatters merrily confirming our suspicion that if you’re making a lot of noise, then you must be having a good time. Then there were 7, hence the underscore.

6.50am – Blaxland Road lights. Browney arrives. Undermines allusion. Typical of a fixie. Riding and dressing to his own renegade tune, we look in in a mixture of awe, jealousy and (mild) disgust. Then there were 8.

6.51 – 7.49am – Rhoaming the Rhodes Rhanges and pondering:

• ·         SatNav’s absence – preparing for the long haul to Bowral tomorrow including a climb up the infamous Macquarie Pass (not bank).  We all have our own personal Everest; Satnav’s just happens to be near Wollongong. Never mind.

• BT freesocking his way into the office; footloose with a hint of odour.

• RTG taking the Captain’s route for an early Friday meeting demonstrating a clear lack of ability when it comes to foresight and planning

• Drastic and 52 heading off to the Masters event in Victoria. Our thoughts and best wishes are with you. We trust you will ride like men escaping a Freudian  analysis and look forward to yarns dripping with metaphor. Stay safe. God’s speed to you.

7.50am – Café Bullet. Only four survive – Phantom, Eric, Bucky, Humble Scribe. All bar Eric take positions on near side of table, looking fabulous though a little obvious. Eric curses his lack of strategy as study and sample period commences.

7.51am – Café Bullet. Mark passing fauna. Conversation ceases.

7.53am – Café Bullet. Mark passing fauna. Acknowledge the timeless appeal of British racing green (see Bucky).

7.51am – Café Bullet. Mark passing fauna. The Lord of Warrawee arrives, disrupting sightlines. Takes position on near side of the table. Go figure.

7.56am – Café Bullet. Mark passing fauna. Conversation ceases.

7.58am – Café Bullet. Mark passing fauna. A particularly good example. Phantom chokes on bacon and egg sanger. 

8.01am – Café Bullet. Mark passing fauna. Conversation ceases.

8.03am – Café Bullet. Mark passing fauna. Bucky sings the praises of Bircher muesli again.

8.05am – Café Bullet. Mark passing fauna. Conversation ceases.

8.17am – Depart Café Bullet. Sated and spent. Call goes up to re-convene at Groingate. “Here, here!” the resounding approval. Pats on back. Fond farewells. Bonded through shared experience. This surely is the commute of the week.

Usual departure 5.15pm SHB with or without socks.

Bullet (Le)