Back on the devil bike on a properly vile Sunday in the Peak. I don't know, you leave your trails unattended for two weeks and someone unleashes a bloody tsumami on them, ripped to bits. But still nice to get out and let the soul and the mind roam around freely.
Oddly, after about two hours of riding through mostly sludge with a big grin on my face, my brain cell wandered off to a far distant past when I was a motorcycle journalist and the time we dubbed a particular project bike 'Satan's Prong'. I can't even remember what the bike was, but the sub-head has stayed with me ever since: 'I have sat on Satan's Prong and it was devilishly good'.
We sat around giggling at our own silliness like hyper-active teenagers. At first it was just a silly line. Then it metamorphosed into a sub-head, then somehow into a cover line. And yes, it was daft and childish and we got a bit carried away with our own cleverness - not that it was particularly clever - but mostly we just got a kick out of sneaking it onto the cover because, as a magazine, we were quietly at war with our publisher, who appeared to hate us with a cold and steely passion.
Why? Why was I thinking about it? Riding a barking mad mountain bike. Just as ridiculous and juvenile and funny. And it's the Devil Bike. And it's just good to be riding again. Hello world, hello clouds, hello sky.