The first meeting of the Dynamos Wind Tunnel Group took place earlier this evening, a new venture popularised by the time trial aerodynamic success of Brad and Chris. A good turnout meant that the desired wind-cheating peloton shape, similar to the cross-section of an airplane wing, could be achieved by stategically arranging the riders according to size. Unfortunately, Roger’s desire to be first up every hill left the peloton looking like one of those wierd helmets the Dutch were wearing.
The whole effort was abandoned approaching Tavernspite when the heavens opened. Everyone seemed to make their own way home, Roger turned quickly on his heels citing a previous appointment, Flapjack resigned himself to a further hour in the hurricane, our Beloved Chairman is never further than a mile from the edge of the Rees estate where ever he is in Pembrokeshire and I think he summoned a member of his household staff to towel him and his bike off in one of his imposing gatehouses. The rest of us were blown back to Narberth soaked to the skin and chilled to the bone.
I jumped in the shower to warm up but couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like at one of those lesbian* hot-tub parties that are all the rage with the medical fraternity.