My bike is stolen

I had been able to get some decent riding in leading up to last Christmas, with the L'Etape de Tour de France in the back of my mind.

January and February and training was interrupted with travel. Got back from London, after NZ, and came down with a really shitty cold that hung around for nearly three weeks. I got out for a couple of rides but really struggled. Anyway that went and in the last week of March I actually got a good, big, week under the belt (just over 500kms). I wanted this as we were heading off for a couple of weeks travelling across northern Spain onto Biarittz, France.

Anyway, then my bike got pinched two days before we left. I had just completed a 134km ride. It's funny how in hindsight you realise how a series of events change history, any one of which could have easily been different.

I finished off this ride with a coffee at Shithole Arriba, aka Bar La Socorrilla. Deb met me there. We finished up and as I was about to hop on the bike and roll down the hill to home, Deb comes out from paying as says "Max. Arsenal is playing on the TV." With that we went inside and had a beer. I placed my bike where I could keep an eye on it. Almost at game end and a large group of German tourists all gathered around at the tables outside. A couple of their kids were rarking around close to my bike so I moved it slightly, losing direct sight line.

Next thing, a couple of the Germans burst in and shout that two little shits are taking off with my bike. Gone. One tourist shows me a digital photo of a rear distant shot. But enough for me to believe I recognise two little shits we've seen causing 'strife' at times. Not Spanish, but from a neighbouring country across the ditch in North Africa.

One of the locals from the bar says to jump in his car and he drives me around the usual hangouts of local teenage ratbags (his inside information?). No luck.

The local police have aleady been called by the bar owner. He and the patrons are horrified by all this. We complete reporting , but also have to go to Policia Nacional HQ next morning.

But I just know I'm not going to see the Avanti Corsa again. Of course, this is a really unique bike in these parts. It will just get trashed, or dumped at a pawn shop in Málaga. It was just true opportunism. As a postscript, I haven't seen the two 'little shits' again either. They are pretty itinerate.

Next day, when I tell guys from the club they are beside themselves. All their predujices come out when I hint at who I believe nicked it.

I could have easily gone straight home for a feed after the biggish ride; Arsenal could just have easily not been the game on TV; .... whatever!

Mad
aka Max