I saw the cyclist from quite a long way back on the straight country road. As I got closer I was fascinated by the movement of the cyclist’s buttocks moving in rhythm with the legs and pedals. I observed the blonde ponytail hanging below the helmet and the way her tight threequarter length blue bike pants showed every ripple of her thighs and calves. As I rapidly closed her in my van I appreciated how well her tight fighting yellow and black polyester jersey displayed her trim waist and the shape of her fit upper body. Observing the shape of her athletic body from behind was certainly cheering me up as I returned with the small van empty after a wasted journey to Gloucester. I hesitated, another vehicle could come along at any moment. I just sat and looked at the girl writhing feebly on the dirty ground for about ten minutes. Her close fitting cycling kit certainly allowed every sinew and muscle movement to be seen, which then reminded me how the bitch had so distracted me in the first place. I walked round in front of
