Ride with Dad — Roadbook of Cycling

I hadn’t seen my dad in over a year, but now he’s had both jabs, we can finally ride together; so we booked a day off work to enjoy the quiet mid-week Surrey Hills.

Dad was diagnosed with leukaemia five years ago, fought a lung tumour, blood clots, etc. The list goes on - so we had something worth celebrating.

Supporting the Lincoln GP. He came tenth once.

Dad grew up in Sutton and Bisley, so the Surrey Hills are his old roads. I took him on the shallower gradients while he’s regaining fitness, making sure to stop at the bluebell hotspots. He has fond memories of playing in the Ranmore bluebells as a child.

Dad rides on the front. Full stop. Whether he’s out with his local MTB or road club or when he was racing in his heyday.

When dad is on the front, you can close your eyes. He’ll steer well clear of the potholes, take you through the right line, etc., which means no punctures or dramas, just suplesse.

When dad is putting in an effort, a bead of sweat forms under the tip of his nose, my grandad’s too. It always makes me laugh. Perhaps this will be me one day?

I rode away on Box Hill to get a shot of dad on the first hairpin.

As I rejoined the road, a sportscar overtook quite aggressively and hit a rabbit. Now, if you didn’t know already, I adore rabbits. I always have.

I stopped, picked up the poor rabbit and just held it in my arms while it slowly passed away. I couldn't let this poor, beautiful animal leave this world on a cold wet road with no one to hold. It broke my heart.