THE MOUNTAIN BIKE CLUB
If some of this sounds a bit hairy - it was Jerry's idea, OK? Mr Jerry Wallace, our friendly expert on computers and anything mechanical, suggested we start a Mountain Bike Club and I agreed, knowing the wonderful tracks and trails in the campo just up the road. What's it like? A typical session then.
By 4.15pm Phil Nuttall and other parents had disgorged their offspring's mounts from their cars and Jerry had assembled them. I led off with Domingo Gonzalez Sanchez jostling for position up front. Something that would continue for the next hour. We'd just hit the campo when I realised we had lost a couple. 200 metres back down the road Conor McCarthy's gears had fallen apart "Mum brought the wrong bike!!!!" Jerry began to disentangle the twisted metal and I agreed to take the others on to 'the tunnel'. The going gets very tough and steep but soon we dipped down, crossed the stream and entered the tunnel under the motorway. I usually scream something scary half way across.

"SCIENCE' I shouted.

"BORING" replied Carlos. In the light at the other end Dom spotted a swarm of mozzies the size of exocet missiles so we sped back through. The 'Rose amongst the Thorns' or as Lewis Gowans would say 'Rose amongst the Thistles', Ginny Francis cycled into the bright sunlight and down into the rocky river bed and up the other side to the track. The team blazed on down the hill and re-joined Mr Jerry and Conor. A rather miraculous on-the-spot repair had left Conor with only a couple of gears but mobile again. A route back round the cross-country course seemed a suitable finale so we veered off left, Domingo leading the way with Carlos on his tail. This battle for poll position must have distracted us from the plan as we missed the turn off for home and sped on down an unknown track. I looked back to see Ryan Segal sweeping through the spiky bushes behind me and then back at Dom and Carlos sensibly screeching to a halt. The path dipped down into a ravine. Dom led on, on foot or should I say on his bottom.

Mr Jerry risked it in the saddle. We crossed a stream and went on and on and on and on.
"We're in Elviria!" screamed Carlos. "Whoops!"
Ginny, armed with very inaccurate local knowledge suggested a non-existent road home near the beach. Dom and Carlos hurtled off to find it. Carlos having negotiated some of Andalucia's most rugged trails, somehow found the tarmac an alien surface but got a really good feel for it as he decided to dive off his bike! With a shrug and a smile he re-joined the wheelie-mob as we cycled back to school along the rather overgrown path beside the careterra. We were a bit late but waiting mums agreed it had been worth it as they heard of the evening's adventures. There's loads of interest in the club but not every mum has the right shaped car to bring a bike to school each week. A school supply of half a dozen? Well Christmas is coming.

Tony Rudall