Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

Joy, the doc did say this might happen but why now? Why today? A Porta loo in a castle car park is not the best place to sort out the arrival of a girls monthly visitor, at least this time I’m – oh bugger!

“Er, Mand.”
“Where are you? I’ve got your accreditation here.”
“Er still in the lav.”
“The door stuck or something?”
“Something, I’ve started, you know, thingy?”
Mand sighed before replying, “And you haven’t got anything?”
“No, well yes.”
“Make your mind up.”
“I’ve got stuff in my bag…”
“…But you haven’t got your bag,” Mand finished.
“It’s in the..” no it wasn’t in the bus, I left it in the car which is back at the hotel, “car.”
“Why didn’t you bring it? No forget it. How bad is it?”
“Not much, a few spots so far.”
“Use toilet roll for now, I’m sure Petra will have stuff but she’s already gone over to the other pit area.”
Just my flippin’ luck.
“’Kay, be with you in a couple of minutes.”

You don’t really want the whole saga but Petra did indeed save the day, her workbox was stocked with the necessaries and I only missed six laps getting sorted out.

“Maybe we need to get Tampax™ to sponsor us,” Mand suggested when I eventually joined her to do the time board.
“Ha de ha, can you imagine Josh racing with that all over his shirt?”
“Make a man of him,” Mand suggested.
“There’s enough Josh as it is.”
“You hussy! Do tell.”

A chorus of whistles and shouting interrupted Mand’s line of questioning, the race was approaching.

Unlike road racing, cross is a much more individual affair, a single rider has as much chance of success as someone in a well represented team. There are two things to remember, stay out of trouble and finish at the front – both easier said than done. Anita is expert at reading the races, Erika seems to be picking it up too, so it was no surprise when both of them came past in the front group of a dozen riders.
We shouted encouragement at our girls then watched as the rest of the field processed past our position.

Mand was to be denied however.
“So how about Josh then?”
“What about him?”
“You know, oh my god, you shared a room in Switzerland!” she gasped.
Bum, I knew that would have repercussions. Look, boys don’t look at each other like that, well most of us don’t and like we used the bathroom to change – on our own.
“I just meant he’s a big lad.”
“I bet he is!”
“Mand!”
“What?”
“You have a dirty mind, de Vreen,” I stated.
“Just saying.”
“Look, he saw more of me than I did him.”
“What? Your boobs?”
“Well I could hardly wear a bra could I?”
“Geez, Gab, and nothing happened?”
“You know it didn’t,” I huffed.

By lap fifteen our riders were separated by just under thirty seconds, surprisingly it was Erika who was still holding top three albeit a few seconds adrift of first and second. The occasional waft from the hotdog stall some two hundred metres along the course was annoying too, reminding my stomach that we hadn’t really eaten yet today. My mind started to wander, thoughts of a sausage in a bun with all the trimmings taking me away from the cold, hungry reality.

“So what about, Max?” Mand enquired.
“What about him?”
“Well duh! You know, his equipment.”
“Mand!”
“Just curious.”
“How the heck should I know?”
“Oh come on, Gab, you trying to tell me your little passion sessions have never got beyond tonsil hockey?”
“He’s a good kisser.”
“Gab.”
“What else would we do?”

I might be blonde but I do know what she’s on about and yes we’ve er both had a bit of a erm grope. Max has been fairly enthusiastic in handling the girls, through my clothes of course, what do you take me for? Come on Mand, buy the bluff.

“Somehow, Gaby Bond I’m tempted to believe you.”
“Here they come,” I enthused, hopefully deflecting her attention away from my love life.

We missed the finish – we couldn’t get across the course but the last time past us Anita was back with Erika and they were literally five metres from the leading duo.
“Hotdog?”
Mand’s stomach answered for her, “What about money?”

Look, I might not be up to speed on the whole girl thing but there are two things that go pretty much everywhere, my Handy and my wallet. Okay, a wallet isn’t very girly I know but it’s a good solution for me, jersey pockets, jeans, alright, Handtasche – it works everywhere. Anyway, where I didn’t have female hygiene products on my person, my wallet was in my pocket.

“Ta da!” I brandished my cash store.

The hotdog stall had a short queue but plenty of staff so we were soon chomping on what the Danes call ‘Ristet’, well something like that. A lot of places in Germany you get the sausage in the middle of the bread but these were ‘real’ split bread jobs with fried onions, sliced gherkin, mustard and tom ketchup. We ate as we walked back to the start/finish area where the presentation was already underway.

“Und second place, riding for Apollinaris, Anita Pilz!” the crackling PA announced.
“Go Nita!” I yelled out, brill, we got the win, wonder where Erika came?

“There you are, girls, can you help Dave and Carsten with the bikes please?” George suggested.
Well he is the boss; we found Dad and Carsten looking somewhat wet and muddy still hosing bikes down.
“We’ve come to help.” Mand offered.
“Hotdog?” Dad suggested.
“How’d you know?” I queried.
“Ketchup on your face, kiddo.”
Sugar, I wiped at the offending blob with a serviette that Mand handed me.
“So what we doing?” Mand asked.
“If you can take those two bikes back to the bus then come back for these, and fetch us a couple of those sausages, eh?”
“Yes, Dad,” I allowed.

The men’s event was already underway by the time we were squared away, I wouldn’t’ve minded watching but everyone else was a) in need of a shower and b) wanting to eat. Well I was certainly in favour of b), the hotdog might have filled a little hole but a celebratory meal – count me in! We dropped back down the steep incline to Eisenach and were soon back at the hotel.

We were of course driving home today; the others were staying overnight so we decamped to various hotel rooms to get cleaned up and into a fit state for polite company in the restaurant. I forgot to say, Erika just missed the podium in the last scramble for the line but fourth was still pretty impressive.

“Tuesday afternoon, Gaby,” Petra advised as I retrieved my coat.
“Eh?”
“At the office? Kit?”
“Oh right,” I’d forgotten our earlier conversation, “you need Manda, too?”
“Your dad was going to bring her later but if she’s about we can kill two birds.”
“We’ll see you Tuesday then.”
“Tuesday,” she confirmed.

There were several hours drive ahead of us when we finally left Eisenach after a boisterous but good-natured celebration. The girls still have a few events to ride but essentially this marks the end of the cross season and the start of serious road preparation.
“We’ll stop for coffee around Frankfurt,” Dad advised as we joined the autobahn.

Good, I’ll need the ‘Klein Mädchen Raum’ by then, we did get through a fair amount of wet stuff – I’m sure at least one glass wasn’t Radler either. The road was quiet and with nothing to see outside I was soon nodding off.

I jolted awake, there was a sense of déjà vu as I stretched and returned to some sort of conscious state.
“Services?”
“Taunusblick.”
“Eh?”
“Near Frankfurt, your phone was going doo-lally, Mand? We’re stopping.”

Dad parked us near the Rasthaus and we hurried inside, it was damned cold again, well still, it’s never really warmed up today.

We’d done the necessary visit and were sat with our Milchkaffee before I fished my Handy out to see who’d been after me. Four missed calls, let’s see, Marty, what’s he want? There was a text too, let’s see;
‘Bern and Drea arrived safe, c u 2moro, M’
“Sugar!”
“Wassup?” Mand asked.
“I forgot all about Bernie coming.”
“As in Gaby the midwife?”
“Uh huh.”
“Back in a minute,” Dad mentioned before heading for the conveniences.

Damn, I’ve been so wrapped in my own stuff that my friend’s arrival really had slipped my mind. I did read that email from her the other day with the new dates but I promptly filed that under ‘not needed yet’. Sugar, sugar, sugar! I tapped out a reply;
‘Give them hugs, talk in am, G’
I hit send with a sigh.
“So I’ll finally get to see this baby you delivered,” Mand went on.
“Helped.”
“Helped then, you were there.”
Yes I was.

The rest of the ride home was uneventful, Mand returned to slumber but I stayed awake, Dad had some old school rock playing on the CD which I found myself humming along to. That was barely a distraction though, my thoughts kept returning to last summer and young Drea’s arrival, not just that but other highs and a few lows in my relationship with Bernie. Am I a bad friend to forget she was coming?

Maddy Bell 23.05.16