Oh, my shattered g-string... well, almost.
Today, Mills and I took another bold step in our relocation. We met at the Town Hall for an errand and, as a joke, I asked him if he was going to ferry me on the back of his bike - Dutch style. "Sure, we can only try," was the nonchalant reply.
Omigod... so at peak lunch hour, in the middle of town, we gave everyone front row seats in Balancing On A Bike For Two. Having learnt from previous experience, I let Mills start with the pedalling, while I trotted next to him nervously, asking... "Are you ready? Are you sure about this?"
After a few metres, I tentatively launched myself onto the back of the bike and then did my best to cling on/sit still while Mills did his best to keep us upright and moving in the general direction of forward. This was tricky, because with my added weight, I flung the bike to the far right of the road, Mills over-compensated by bringing the bike back to the left/centre of the road and the car behind us dropped back a good twenty metres. Also, according to Mills, I was squealing like a stuffed pig. This was mostly because I did not want to score a perfect dismount (marked ten for difficulty) off the back of a bike in the middle of lunchtime traffic.
I was actually very impressed... if it wasn't for the erratic wobbling, we almost looked like we weren't absolute beginners at bike transportation. Did I mention I was holding a pile of loose papers under my left arm, while trying to clutch my handbag under my right arm, without moving a muscle?
Well, when I say without moving a muscle.. the one muscle that was moving was my right bum cheek. This was because all my weight was balanced VERY precariously on that poor glut. To be clear, it wasn't even the bum cheek that was carrying my balance... it was the bum bone. You know the bit where flesh doesn't quite reach - and you only notice it after sitting through a really long exam, or a really boring meeting? Or sitting on a very sharp and precisely fitted bolt, driven through the back of a bicycle frame..
Everytime we hit a bump or cycled up and over a ramp, my bum left the bike and landed, with great precision, on the same bum bone - on the same bolt sticking out of the back of the bike. And every time I so much as breathed in another direction, my movement would send the bike careening involuntarily into the middle of the road, which would result in Mills telling me to "PLEASE sit still!"
I didn't even giggle. I was concentrating so hard on not moving, not wincing, not breathing. At one stage, I did lose concentration, letting my leg drop low enough to engage in a brief affair with one of the pedals, resulting in - you guessed it - us careening across into oncoming traffic. With only one block to go, I eventually had to concede defeat and walked the rest of the way home because I didn't think that my bruised ass could take it any more.
But kudos to Mills. Although his back wheel does make a funny noise now...