What, might you ask, is this image above? It's not a bicycle, for sure. Of course, the signage give it away: it is one of the few images of the doomed London Transport County Area Dartford Tunnel Cycle Service double decker buses, with room on the lower deck for our two-wheeled friends, and space on the top for jaunty cycle touring type, which ran as a service under the sea.
Lack of use meant they were pulled from service on the tunnel between Essex and Kent in the early 1960s.
The same thing happened to the bridge that runs atop the tunnel nowadays. Or at least Drs Doug and Matt failed to locate the Crossing Point, where one summons a land rover to ferry you across the cycle-starved new bridge, in advance. Instead, we resorted to the traditional purple line route to Whitstable (the Wuss Table), with Shaw consulting his iPhone like Frodo nursing his precious (a habit he will stop). Nonetheless, we got there, the train arriving after 112 km into Whitstable a 30 kmph rather than the recent 40 kmph triumph. It was hot, we were tired, and Doug had his lungs filled with phlegm. We arrived at the beach in time to find Friend of the Trois V during the annual Blessing of the Sea service. Sorry, Whitstablers: Doug was not Satan, despite appearances.
Thusly, the compass ride sequence was 50% completed, and wound up with a recovery ride today. And we leave you with the Bike Porn above.