The day had arrived, the start of the much anticipated Grantstock. Attendance was already depleted due to Matt announcing that he was broken and wouldn’t be coming, but everything else was looking good.
After loading far too much kit into the car, I finally headed north about 10am. Three hours of dull motorway and slightly less dull A roads saw me arrived in Macclesfield to meet up with Gray. A mug of tea was thrust into my hand and brought me back to life. The first job was to try to cure the creaking on Grays new Turner RFX. The cranks were removed, BB tightened, cranks refitted, and still it creaked. The cranks were soon off again, the BB eventually persuaded out of the frame, and a new BB and cranks fitted. The bloody creak was still there. Out came the rear wheel and the pivots were tightened. Success at last, it was almost silent. Fettling over we threw everything into the back of Grays “executive saloon” for the journey even further north.
Back onto the motorway again we settled down for the journey, Scotland announced it’s arrival with a sign saying “Welcome to Scotland”, the “Here there be bears” warning seemed to have been removed. After a long 4.5 hours we arrived in Cowdenbeath and promptly got lost. Apparently Grant doesn’t know the name of the street at the end of his road ;)
The car was unloaded and a beer opened. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of beer, pizza and mtb dvd’s. Finally we retired to bed, tired from too many hours spent in cars. Tomorrow would see the start of the riding.