bad-good

I got the wains to bed early last night so I could go out for an hour before the sun went down.

Maybe I should reword that.

I got the wains to bed early so they'd be more alert today, better able to concentrate, have better skin, and to boost their intelligence. As a complete coincidence that also gave me time for an hour's ride before sunset.
Just near home, so no need to burden myself down with tools or anything.

I started out on the track along the sixmile water (the dirt track, not the tarmac'd mill race trail) and I was happy. Not a perfect ride by a long way, but flowing pretty well, picking out good lines, succeeding where I often fail.

You can probably write the next line without my help, but I'll write it anyway.

I got a puncture.

I decided to push it to a gap in the trees and walk out through the technology park. Coming out at the dirt jumps, it looked deserted, until I rounded one of the ramps and saw "Bloke with Spade" He couldn't help me with the flat, but we got talking.
His name's Jed, and he's a qualified architect; but riding bikes is much more important, so he works in a bike shop (chainreaction cycles) and spends his spare time riding, or preparing to ride.
He and his mates started building the dirt jumps fifteen years ago, and they're still improving them. The most recent jumps are over six feet high, but it's impossible to get up enough speed to use them, so last night he was out, adjusting other jumps and berms improving the angles, raising heights, determined to do what's currently impossible.

I've noticed this about mountain biking. It's an old-style sport. There's no pleading for government grants, demanding council action, begging money off other people so you can pay somebody to do something. Mountain bikers the world over are only too happy to get off the bike, lift the spade out of the car, and do the work themselves.

I never did get to complete my ride, but I gave Jed a hand and he gave me a lift home. I'm glad I met him.