Throwback Thursday – Careless Talk Costs Rides

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For the loose collective of like-minded friends who yearn for an annual week of singletrack sanctuary in far-flung places, the ritual dance surrounding the next adventure begins the day we return from the current trip. Pops (not his real name) immediately turns his restlessly organised mind to planning the next expedition, safe in the knowledge that his significant other will encourage the event as a means of securing her own skiing odyssey the following year, and that his offspring will see his absence more as an opportunity than a threat.


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Barney Marsh

Singletrack Magazine Contributor

Barney Marsh takes the word ‘career’ literally, veering wildly across the road of his life, as thoroughly in control as a goldfish on the dashboard of a motorhome.

He’s been, with varying degrees of success, a scientist, teacher, shop assistant, binman and, for one memorable day, a hospital laundry worker. These days, he’s a dad, husband, guitarist, and writer, also with varying degrees of success. He sometimes takes photographs. Some of them are acceptable.

Occasionally he rides bikes to cast the rest of his life into sharp relief. Or just to ride through puddles. Sometimes he writes about them. Bikes, not puddles.

He is a writer of rongs, a stealer of souls and a polisher of turds.

He isn’t nearly as clever or as funny as he thinks he is.

Comments (2)

    This is perfect! Sent to the wife to lay groundwork for Morzine ’15 🙂

    Very true – but mine just sighs with relief I’ll be out from under her feet for a week or so. The availability of the car is usually a flash point.

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