The Mobile MILF

From Wikipedia.

Well, dahlinks. As you know from reading about my titanic struggles with the wishy washy wiper water bottle, I do drive a black car. Black is the new black! (Although to tell the truth, it was not I who selected the black car but the Baron.) I feel at my most MILFy when driving the car, it is all very Stacey’s Mom and that (wink). I drive along playing The Rolling Stones. Yah, Mother’s Little Helper and Beast of Burden (wink).

‘N sometimes of course I drive the washing machine. If you do not know how to drive a washing machine and why a MILF might sometimes sit on it for a drive, then you are not a MILF and you should hurriedly move on to the next paragraph <snerk>. I once said on the board I go on that the most important criteria in a washing machine was velocity, n’ I was corrected by a DILF who said, no you mean frequency, but then HP came to my rescue ‘n said, No, if she is thinking along the lines I think she is thinking, she does mean velocity – so you see, you can drive a washing machine at high speed n’ very exhilarating it is too <snerk>.

Landrover-bikes.com. 

Ordinarily, tho’, my mode of transport is the Land Rover Ascot Lady’s Bicycle. Yah yah, I ride a cream one. My colleague swears he saw me the other day ‘n that I had a wicker basket on the front of the bicycle, LOL. I do look like I ought to have a wicker basket but in fact I have hefty serious proper black panniers clipped to a carrier on the back. (The panniers are in the old black; I bought them years ago before I had Piglet, dahlink, and they are very proper and good still.)

Vaude pannier - still totally
waterproof after fifteen years. Yah
'course that is recycled toilet tissue.
'N a shrink-wrapped cucumber like
in the Labi Siffre poem <snerk>. 

I keep meaning to get a li’l wicker basket cuz it would look so-o-o nice although truth be told, I really need the panniers which I fill up with potatoes and carrots and some of the delicious bobby beans if they are in season; packs of toilet roll and kitchen paper and boxes of multi-grain serious cereal for the Baron; multi-surface cleaner, single use toilet cleaner and household sponges in rainbow colours. I do not use the bicycle for kitty litter, rice or other heavy items that come in sacks. If I have to buy those, I get in the car ‘n put on the Rolling Stones.

How I came to get the panniers was like this.

When I was living it up in London, I bought a red racing bicycle from a charity shop with my first week’s wage from the right on wimmin’s publishing collective (the publishing collectives are another story, dahlink). This is something you should never do cuz as I found out, they look like a bargain but they are often falling to bits, not the right size ‘n the bicycle shop will swear and look glum when you ask them to help you fix it up for you. At least my bicycle was the right size for me, it saved me a lot in bus fares, ‘n I loved it very much. I used to cycle to my girlfriend’s house along the canal ‘n the workmen on scaffolding over the water on the other side would sing: “You can ring my be-e-ell, you can ring my bell.” ‘N I would laugh and wink at them across the shimmering water.

My ex-girlfriend is a psycho from Hell, LOL, but she did know a lot about bicycles. No no no, she did not help me learn about bicycles! She took a lot of money for white goods off me, cuz that is what she claimed would make her happy. What a ditz! I admired her knowledge about bicycles greatly and when I finally lost her and the white goods to some other evil woman (who hopefully made her suffer as much as she made me suffer), I determined to find out about bicycles myself. By then I knew the guys in the bicycle shop quite well. Now I have to tell you that guys in bicycle shops are a lovely kind of guy. You want to make sure you had a good breakfast before you go down and flirt with them, cuz they are lightweight at the flirting. However they love bicycles and will give you all sorts of assistance without charging for it and they are usually nice people who trust you will come back to them to buy a proper bicycle one day if they help you with your crappy red bike you bought in a charity shop.

Dawes Horizon

Yah, of course I did! The little sweeties. As soon as I got my first Research Fellowship I went back and I bought a gorgeous Dawes touring bike from the bicycle shop. They ordered it for me ‘n advised me on getting a new saddle (cuz these things come with some hard saddle that is no good for the sweet buttocks of a MILF – or as I was at the time, a roving spinster with a glint in my eye). You need a gel saddle, dahlink. They helped me choose some proper cycling clothes ‘n the panniers in the old black ‘n everything; they were totally great and provided two free services. Services of the bike, the bike! Do listen carefully. It is like I am telling you, these boyzzz are always lightweight in the sexy flirting department – total bantams. They live among the black grease ‘n spanners ‘n if you flirt with them at all at all, they are consumed with giggles ‘n blushes and become useless at fixing your sprockets so I avoid it as much as I can. (Yah, that is not much <snerk>.)

Mmm, what are the proper clothes for cycling? Oh dahlink, I cannot believe you are even asking this! The proper clothes for cycling are lycra. Black lycra. (Black has been the new black in cycling for yonks, it is all very Ford – you can have any colour 'slong as it is black.)

Gah! 'course I don't mind flirting
with the likes of this beefcake!
I seriously was trying to
check a pothole.

Yah, the bicycle shop had racks of lycra leggings: ones with crossover straps n’ gorgeous ones with buckles ‘n straps. I bought one of each – in black, which I still have. I wear them in winter when it is cold. I was talking about road hazards the other day with someone ‘n he was a bit surprised when I said white van drivers are the worst. Thing is, a white van driver who sees from behind a lady clad in a li'l black lycra number (leaning over the drop handle bars of a Dawes tourer and p’raps standing up on the pedals ‘n swaying from side to side to get speed up with her glutei maximi squeezing in hard) is a l’il bit liable to attempt to talk to her when they both stop at the traffic lights. ‘N if she is trying to focus on some potholes in the road ahead and does not reply quickly, he gets snotty ‘n cuts her up at the next opportunity.

Drivers of sports cars are also a nuisance, cuz when you weave through the traffic jams ‘n zoom past them on some pedal cycle teasingly close to their paintwork, they get huffy ‘n try to cut you up. Tee hee hee! I missed your paintwork! in an eco-friendly way, of course.

‘N when you walk in the department swinging your helmet, glowing (we are ladies; we do not sweat), your ex-rugby player legs clearly delineated in the black lycra, you do tend to collect a train of cub students who want to talk to you about their essay – which is very keen and nice. They never seem that bothered about their other studies (wink). You of course wish to encourage the little sweeties, so you say: “Of course, dahlink. Come up and see me some time. My proper tutorial hour for preference.”

Nowadays I do not ride the drop-handled touring bike through the busy streets of London, I have the sit-up lady’s cycle and I go along the river paths in the family-friendly city where I am settled. In summer, I do not bother with the lycras cuz they are not very cool. I mean that in the literal sense, of course, cuz the lycra leggings with the buckles and straps would be so cool they would be the Arctic if they were not so hot they are the Sahara Desert (wink).

Anyway, anyway, in summer I wear some floaty dress that is cool on multiple levels and not black - flowery or lacy (wink). 

You have to tuck the floaty flowery lacy skirt up in your knickers, otherwise it gets into the wheel or the brake blocks, causing all sorts of trouble and perhaps even tearing the skirt, quelle horreur, or going in the chain and getting old black oil on it, gah. I tootle along with my skirt tucked up and my ex-rugby player legs freely pedalling. There is often trouble around on the roads and leafy suburban byways, but it is happening around me not to me so I just float through with a smile ‘n a wave.

Cornish tartan skirt with
incidental snoozing kitten.

Cycling is very useful in all sorts of unexpected ways. Like, today I set off to school with Piglet ‘n she wanted to cycle so we get out the cream Land Rover Ascot lady’s bike, ‘n the pink Land Rover Pigletocycle. When I sat on my saddle I could feel it cold on my thighs ‘n I suddenly remembered that the Cornish tartan skirt I was wearing got split up the back the other day (never you mind how that happened <snerk>, I am an honourable slut, I do not kiss ‘n tell!) ‘n needs to be mended. Well, it is too late now to take it off and change before going to school with Piglet so I just sit on the bike ‘n hope nobody notices my skirt is a bit more split than the maker intended. If I smile very wide and sweet, people usually do not look at my bum – they are too busy looking at my smile ‘n my legs. ‘N I can mend the skirt when I get home. The split is prolly not bad enough that you can see more than the lace edge of the li’l yellow see-through knickers anyway (wink). ‘N even if you can, people will think I did not realise and be too embarrassed to tell me cuz they are all Brits at the schoolgate, LOL. And, see, the thing is, I never would’ve realised if I had not been riding my bicycle with the gel saddle cold on my thighs.

(This one is a NV,
dahlnks! Not quite
quite but will do on a
hot day (wink).) 

Also, I can wear high heels on the schoolrun if I cycle cuz I do not have to walk in them while carrying the heavy shopping, so you can see that the bicycle is very useful to me in that regard.

I actually can do ethnographic research while pedalling along too. It is like Walter Benjamin’s arcades project only his project is rather sexist plus nostalgie de la boue – so bourgeois, dahlink! Whereas my riding my cycle along the river paths in a Cornish tartan skirt that got a bit split but is prolly OK, is so upper class that I practically have James Bond on my crossbar and a bottle of Bollinger in my wicker basket. Or I would do, if only I had the wicker basket.  

I left my bike in the sun today and when I ran out the house ‘n hopped on it, the saddle was all warm on my thighs, cuz what with one thing and another I never quite had time to change my skirt or mend it before I had to leave ‘n drop off a pair of shoes that need re-heeling ‘n collect Piglet from the sacred grove of Academe. LOL.