Perfect Timing

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding4 Comments

Matt - Symmonds Yat.

Which is pretty damn impressive – considering the processing delay between shutter depression and image capture on my ickle trail camera is such that it’s best to click way before the rider is even in sight. Or born.

That’s Matt making a mockery that 40lb freeride bikes aren’t perfectly fine for 50k forest bashes. The trail is one of many built but the Dirt boys out of Monmouth, and the jump is where my riding pal David first came up short and then ended up in hospital with a nasty back injury. He’s back riding well now, but as a reminder that these trails are a step up it’s compelling.

It’s as if a bunch of naughty boys have taken the rather lovely – if safe – Forest Of Dean, roughed her up a bit, stuck a ball under her jumper, given her an aggressive haircut and a hint of menace before sitting back and asking “right then, fancy taking this on do you” to a bunch of nervous fifth formers.

As a metaphor, I accept it needs some work. Steeper and deeper here, bigger climbs, increasing gradients, bigger obstacles, fast flow then slow’n’techy, surprisingly rocky and often loose- it’s a patchwork of outstanding trails where confusing confidence with ability will end in a proper accident.

It is a place – as our American Cousins would label – to bring your A game. I don’t have an “A” game and having failed to shaken a bastard cold this week and some unreconciled crashing concerns from the elbow smash a month go, an entire new alphabet would be needed to position exactly how rubbish I was going to be.

Game tho I was. Started a bit wheezily on a 15k jaunt from Ross ensuing the car for some old-school tarmac/dismantled railway bashing. Surprisingly enjoyable because of the unending beauty of the Wye Valley, and there’s something simply right about not driving to ride.

It’s all a bit winch and plummet once you’ve hit the heights of the trails proper. Three iterations demanded the thick end of a thousand metres climbing from your legs, and some level of skill and commitment when it all went grinningly vertical.

I was reminded a bit of the Climax black run, not because of terrain or surface but more because these are trails built by people who can ride a bit and they demand that you do too. Nothing insanely dangerous* but superbly flowly if you’re pushing on a bit, frustratingly difficult if not. But anyone who builds not one but TWO dry stone wall jump/drops into a single trail is a bloody genius, and deserves a tip of my virtual hat.

Most of the stuff was new and riding unsighted – chasing a vanishing Matt – had me thinking back to when I started riding. Everything was fresh, nothing was recalled, experience turned into joy and then into memories. It got me gabbling, pointing and a little bit frightened. There’s a single world for that: Alive.

Happy to be so after a final trail off the ridge which saw Matt roosting* swathes of red dirt sliding his back tyre. Seemed a good time to finish the singletrack if not the ride. No first we had to find a pub not full of bank holiday angst and barfing kids. And our joy of riding into such as establishment was hardly metered by the shock of two pints costing nearly a tenner. Mainly as that was Matt’s round πŸ˜‰

I rode to work with a stinking cold last Monday and that was good. I rode in the Malverns with the arse end of that cold in the wet, damp and single digit temperatures on Thursday and that was great. I rode today on about 70{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} lung and 50{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} competence and that was bloody outstanding.

This seems unanswerable evidence I just love riding bikes. Long may it continue.

* Well there are a couple of things. Walking works well at this point. It’s a case of “how brave am I feeling? Quite Brave, Very Brave, No not that Brave actually on reflection”

** I know. I know. But honestly, it’s the perfect word. It was ground zero at at a roostage convention.

Trigger’s broom

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Photography1 Comment

Triggers Broom

A milestone has passed. Or – now I’ve gone metric to create the illusion of travelling further – a kilometre stone. 1250 of them to be precise. That was the point at which the previous ST4 waggled its twangy arse for the last time, and collapsed into a heap of iron fillings. The horror of finding the bottom bracket had destroyed the frame by ripping through the internal threads stayed with me right up until Orange admitted it was a bit rubbish and sent me a new one.

The plan for the original bike was to replace my Cove Hardtail so saving the cost of procuring a whole flange of expensive and shiny new parts. This was not entirely successful; within six months everything but the seatpost and saddle had been replaced by the aforementioned new and shiny, and the Cove was brought back from the shed.

Now I’ve replaced the seatpost and saddle. Fiscal irresponsibility sprayed faintly with lazy logic is a dangerous way to approach a web browser. Undeterred that such a part was unavailable from any UK reseller, I went all free market and ordered directly from the Fatherland. Two days later after various helpful emails including “Ihr aktueller Bestellstatus: In Bearbeitung“*, a box bearing clever hydraulics and an fairly eye watering invoice was swiftly transferred onto old trigger up there.

And it’s ace. Being a serial seat dropper, it’s removed the tedious need to dismount and dick about with QRs for a 30 second descent before trying to find the right pedalling position again to prevent ones knees exploding. So most of the time you don’t do it, and that is an exercise in joy limitation. I remember from my skills course Tony pushing the idea of moving down not back, with all the benefits having a low CofG can bring.

So it’s clever. Don’t ask me how it works I’ve no idea. First ride, this was clearly the case with my incessant fiddling taking twice as much time compared to dismount/sigh/adjust seat/get back on. And the marketing boys have missed a trick here – “X Fusion HiLo”? Sounds like a second rate cartoon character. Since to operate the “drop“, one must reach down and tickle ones’ wedding vegetables before releasing the lever, surely there is scope here for something more manly.

I’m going with “gruntbuster tacklegrabber” which is pretty unbeatable. The rest of the bike is pretty damn good as well. Which considering that most of the time I’m at the business end of the spanners, and it’s been thrown roughly to the ground on a number of occasions is a testament to the robustness of the new frame.

Sure it’s not exactly light for a four inch travel bike. And it’s probably a little bit slack for jedi-speeder wiggly tree action, but the limiting factor by some horizon stretching distance is the rider. As it is in 99{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} of cases, which is why magazine reviews are informative, generally well written and almost entirely useless. For me, the only thing about a bike that matters is does it put a big grin on your face every time you ride it.

Certainly does. And with the “tacklegrabber” installed, that grin’s going to get even bigger πŸ™‚

* Which I translated as “Congratulation, we’ve shipped your product” or “For information: We’ve annexed the Sudenland”

Keep taking the Tablets

On By AlexIn Other stuffLeave a comment

First a complaint. Surprising to hear this from a man who is so well adjusted to the rhythm of the world, and entirely tolerant of stupidity powered by marketing. But there it is β€œ well here it is actually: The next individual who feels to suffix their smugmail(tm) with some little ditty regarding the end device shall be consuming said smart device through one of two orifices.

With the aid of a spade if necessary. I care not if your latest missive has been sent from you iPhone or intentionally brief as spewed from thumb wielding Blackberry boredom. If email etiquette informed by the wielding of garden implements is unsuccessful, I shall be forced to launch a counter battery Please excuse the brevity, slate is bloody expensive and my chisel needs sharpening”

On the one hand, while my snoop cocking at the triviality of shiny-new-stuff technology is becoming increasingly vocal, I cannot but lust after the bastard love child of a tablet and netbook. You see I cannot β€œ and will not β€œ succumb to the crazy idea thatΒ£500 is a fine price to consume the web on a keyboard-less screen. And that position remains firm even after being shown exactly how clever an accelerometer is.

But…but…but.. that Asus* is one smart design. It’s like version 2 of a netbook β€œ another technology I never really understood, and there’s some cheap Dell shit sat in a drawer at home to show how easy it is to dismiss such hype right after you’ve spent real money on one – kind of funky and useful.

Any such purchase by a trend chaser such as I is doomed to determine a future already played out by such technological titans as Betamax and the Apple Newton. But it does have two things to recommend it: a) it’s not made by Apple who have turned smugness into a religion and therefore should be shunned by proper engineering types and b) it’s actual usable for something other than viewing web/games/norks** from funny angles.

There’s some hidden benefits as well. Firstly my dumbphone(tm) will probably commit suicide on seeing something four waves of technology downstream of its’ own digitally stunted world. This would be a good thing as, regardless of the limitless abuse I meter out to the bloody thing, it resolutely refuses to die.

Secondly my kids would think me cool for about ten seconds before realising it wasn’t an iPad. At which point it’d be chucked in the bucket of uncool dad which includes Mountain Bikes, ability to make horse in distress noises and inability to understand what the hell is going on in Dragonball Z***

It’s all a bit electronic fantasy tho as Carol will rightly value engineer any such purchase with a simple What’s it for?. And, because she is entirely immune to the power of marketing and bullshit, this leaves me little wriggle room other than it’s my birthday soon”

Still at my age, the money would probably better spent on a CAT scan πŸ˜‰

* A name sniggeringly amusing until you mate it with the fourteen word product name/version which someone takes the gloss of its’ smuttiness.

** Taken from my old mate Steve’s description of how he spent one night with a bevy of drunk nurses. It’s is a derivative of nork snorkelling. Fairly sure you can work out the rest.

*** He’s dead Dad What the one running about and fighting? I’d be inclined to ask for a second opinion

Done and Dusty.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Clic-24Leave a comment

10th anniversary of the CLiC24 event is done. I am back and still fully capable of independent movement. I am also very, very tired. So here’s a summary of the good, the not so good and the occasionally amusing.

Things that rocked:

1) Atmosphere. Chilled out but superbly organised. It’s a million miles from Mayhem and a million times better for it. Full of happy people having an ace time.

2) Organisation. Astounding – great food, top beers at the bar, ever cheerful marshalls, warm showers, unsmelly loos, great marque playing top tunes.

3) Course. 30{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} different and extended. Tougher but better. Fantastic yomp across the moor to finish. Fast, rocky singletrack to start. Engaging twiddly bits in between. Hard on the legs, good for the soul.

4) Charity. Probably should be no#’1. CLiC24 is the only endurance event I’ll ever ride now. Because they’re worth it πŸ˜‰

5) Team Hardcore Loafing (or Lardcore Huffing as we became) putting in an outstanding first twelve hours before tapering off a bit. I blame the wine.

6) Fitness. Having some. First two laps had a feeling of what being properly fit might feel like. Was reminded how far away from that I am by soloists cheerily passing me this morning having nearly doubled the laps I’d completed.

7) Having an awesome team mate in Nig. Top man, entirely unflappable, strong rider, brings excellent wine which we decanted into plastic glasses. Class.

8) It didn’t rain. OTHANKYOUGOD.

Thinks that sucked a bit:

1) Not full. 100 entries under the 500 maximum. Everyone struggling to fill their events this year. Twice as many soloists than teams so clearly there’s a niche worth mining there for future events. Cannot understand how Mayhem/Sleepless get so many entries when – in my wildly uninformed opinion – this is a shit load better

2) Er, that’s about it. Pretty chilly for some of the event and bloody windy for all of it. That got a bit old but honestly I’m just whinging on the periphery now.

Al’s round up of stuff that was in chucking distance of funny:

1) Attempting the erection* of the famous Leigh Family Tent/Small fabric country in a 30mph wind in the fading light. Entertainment unbounded for the increasing amused watchers who seem to be pointing and hiding laughing behind their hands. At one point I felt the whole shebang was ready to ascend to the Heavens but we wrested back control providing us with more than adequate loafing space, bar area, sleeping compartments, stove and kettle. This time around we didn’t actually set fire to anything either. Bonus.

2) “Hmmm Beer“. Nig and Al on entering the marquee.

3 “H’mm Cake“. Same, two seconds later

4) “I bet Max Mosely paid more than five quid for this amount of pain“: Al on the massage bed being given a right seeing too by a no nonsense lady who repeatedly told me it was hurting her more than me. Not unless she was stabbing herself in the eye with a fork it bloody wasn’t.

5) “I rode so slowly, I nearly drowned in the watersplash” : Nig succinctly summarises the pace of his night lap.

6) “Those are six inch travel bikes, yes? That’s about the distance you’ve travelled in the last minute, get a bloody move on“: Al on the motivational trail in the best bit of singletrack.

7) “Hear my squeeky brakes? That’s a metaphor for YOU’RE NOT GOING FAST ENOUGH“: More motivational stuff from me. I think it helped. Helped me anyway.

8) “10 laps you say? Solo? Well done” followed by an urgent whisper “THE ALIENS ARE HERE, SOUND THE ALARM”

9) “I am the kind of racing machine that needs constant oiling… get the beers in” overheard in the bar

10) “The sweatiest thing in this tent is my helmet….” pause “I’ll be off for a shower then eh?” domestic bliss in the Parker/Leigh tented village.

I forgot my camera, but many others didn’t even taking time to get a photo of yours mugly. But we were worthy, you can be assured of that. Significantly more worthy in the first twelve hours than the second twelve, but worthy nevertheless.

Thanks for those who sponsored me for CLiC Sargent. You’ve made a happy man very old.

* I believe the correct camping term is “Pitch” but where’s the fun in that?

Pack it in.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Clic-24Leave a comment

Waterproof Jacket. Waterproof Socks. Waterproof Shorts*. Waterproof Socks. Winter Boots. Vast Tent (waterproof). Flippers. Goggles. Canoe. Beer. More Beer. Will To Live.

Maybe a bike.

Maybe not.

Fairly standard packing list for any event caught in the crossfire of English weather, riding bicycles for indeterminable hours and me. Plan for snow and hope for the best is a tactic that served me well especially during the biblical horror of 2009. If evolution could be morphed with always-on modernity, a new homo-wetian cluster would have emerged from the flooded bog of the West Mendips. Equipped with gills.

Raining outside now. Sky as black as a man with his head in a mucky bucket. Something I’d normally be considering channelling my Ostrich coping strategies. And yet a peek of the fickle forecasting interweb returns only patchy rain, a brisk wind and a little chill. Receiving extreme sunburn is unlikely, but then again so is drowning. I’ve chosen not to believe a bloody word of it. Considering a wetsuit.

Packing has not gone well so far if I’m honest. Last night? Ideal, write a list, locate items, wonder if “amusing elephant” has been added to list by not so amusing child. Fail to locate key items that have clearly been hidden. Will To Live on top of that particular list. Open tailgate, and – with a berserker cry – launch multiple wheelbarrows of useless stuff into the back. Adjust fit with handy sledgehammer, job done.

Went riding instead. Dusted off the Cove with crazy notion of deploying it as a spare bike at the CLiC-24. A second rider would be better. And a third come to that. It repaid my negligence and abandonment with a reminder that disc brakes only work when BOTH pads and disks are available to the caliper. Rear ones on the backing, front ones in there somewhere but insufficiently motivated to prevent lever banging against the bar, while arresting no motion of the front wheel.

Good brakes make you go faster apparently. I sort of get that. But let me expand the theory – no brakes AT ALL make you go very fast indeed. The last descent from the Worcester Beacon shall live long between me and my therapist. I’m sure it’s all fixable although chucking the thing on the trailer and assuming it’ll somehow self heal is unlikely to be a successful approach.

Right, it seems I’m nearly out of time and all out of excuses. I’ll take a camera to record the misery which – obviously – I’ll share with you sometime next week. I wonder if it’s too late to book a B&B πŸ˜‰

* Kinky. I’m not sure an explanation of “yes they may be plastic but who wants a heavy gritting up the arsecrack?” helps much.

I am calm.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Clic-24, Mountain Bike RidingLeave a comment

Brean Down Sloping

And here’s a picture of a tree to remind myself how calm I am. Because there are a number of reasons that such mental nirvana may soon be transformed into a state best described as 30{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} tourettes, 30{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} head banging lunatic and 40{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} roof jumping depressive.

The major reason is that CLiC24 is just around the corner. Well 60 miles due south if today’s pedantry is geographically based. Now six weeks ago, this wasn’t a problem at all; some of my confidence was based on hard winter’s riding, some good early season form, the onset of BST and drying trails. Although it was the “six weeks away” that really swung it from terrifying to something even to look forward too.

Well it’s here now. Soon I’ll be looking back on it. Possibly from some kind of medical institution. I lost two weeks of riding to a leaky elbow and seemingly two more to work/holidays and – more worryingly – apathy. Should be out riding now but pretending I’m tapering for the weekend. Which sounds WAY better than “sitting in front of a ‘puter wonder what beer goes best with nachos”.

Been flying a lot instead. Been crashing a lot as well. One model needs some life saving surgery that will inevitably end well if Carol is involved or badly if powertools are. Obviously I’m keen to get to the core of the problem by the simple application of a motorized blade. Might consider that on the bike after this weekend.

So not ridden as much as I should. Going to manage a single ickle ride which – if we’re as lucky as last week – shall end first on a rooty downhill track with cheeky steps and latterly in the pub. Where I shall talk a good game about exactly how our now reduced team of two shall storm down the leaderboard through the ruthless execution of our race strategy.

It goes like this “ride a lap, have a beer“. I feel it’ll work well for four or five laps. After which it probably won’t work at all. And neither shall I if my previous performances are anything to go by. Yet, ever the deluded optimist, I’m treating a team mutiny leaving us exactly half staffed as something of a bonus. This way I have the opportunity to ride more laps at a leisurely pace. Assuming it’s not snowing.

Great charity tho remember: I shall make sure my best – however un-best that is – is hauled round the course as many times as possible. One final thing does worry me though, if I don’t really fancy riding at the moment, how the hell am I going to feel afterwards?

Friday Nutter..

On By AlexIn Photography1 Comment

An occasional slot dedicated to those individuals whose skill/bravery/lack of imagination both inspire and diminish any watching rather than doing.

Nutter bike videos are fine. I’ve reconciled myself that the pleasure one can illicit from watching such wheeled perfection is in no way lessened by feeling of jealousy or frustration. Because, as I’ve espoused before, anyone that good* is clearly an alien and there are many amongst us.

Gliders are slightly different. Smashing up the toy ones is obviously a home grown skill that would translate badly to the full size. Having flown many such engineless behemoths in my youth, I’ve a vague idea of exactly how dangerous/bonkers/physically demanding that stuff going on in the video is.

My favourite bit is either when the huge loads on the airframe (that’s a Swift which can stand 10G and -7G Inverted… find me a powered plane that can do that) sound out in creaks, groans and aural implications of impending doom. Or when a pen flies up into the cockpit under massive negative G and the pilot calmly grabs it.

Various Air Forces around the world use the Swift to teach fighter jocks aerobatics. Proper bonkers.

* or, let’s be honest, that much better than me

IVR

On By AlexIn Other stuff2 Comments

An acronym to strike fear into the heart of any innocent attempting to pay for the privilege of wasting their own time. It’s not – as you might suspect – shorthand for It’s Virtually Rude or even I’m Very Rustrated*, but the rather more semantically challenging Interactive Voice Recognition.

Worked with these things a bit in what passes as my professional life. Fairly sure they’re designed specifically to ensure that a) you slam the phone down in righteous anger having pushed 1,3,7,6,3,2 waited for half an hour and then hit gjhfu97874 with your fist and been immediately disconnected and b) you enjoy a significant contribution to the non-customer-service service line profits by dint of a premium number.

Today, I’ve been lucky enough to batter through the electronic barriers to real people – who obviously don’t give a shit either but at least they answer back, albeit in monosyllabic grunts farmed from non-helpful scripts – in order to give them some of my money.

Firstly Vodafone. They have a “customer experience” system designed by a sadistic lunatic with a specialism in repetition. Dialled the access number, prodded my way through to “any other enquiry” – because you’ll always end up at the same place so no point shunting through multiple queues to get there – exiting the numeric maze by entering my mobile number.

I get Gary: “Can you tell me your mobile number please?” I explained I had just done so to his electronic IVR colleague. “We have to ask again” he tells me. But he can’t tell me why. I provide it so we move onto the address. Which one? Head Office, My Office, Home? Either, or, all apparently. No, still not sure why.

After a dull game of “no not that one, try again” we establish it’s the firms’ head office. “Do I know the post code?” Obviously not because I am not some kind of mnemonic memory man. “I need it before we can go on“. Don’t ask why, I did. It wasn’t a conversational branch finishing in an epiphany.

Apparently it’s for “Security Reasons“. All I’m going to do is Google it so it’s unlikely this would deter any thief with access to a) the Internet or b) an IQ of more than 11. This triggers a surly response from an increasingly grumpy Gary that this is not his fault, and – power crazed with the opportunity to deal some small minded smackdown – he refuses to proceed until I’ve pony’d up the six digit code.

I fail to do so. We agree to disagree. Up to the point when I mark him as a “script based monkey with the customer facing skills of a baseball bat“. I hang up before he does. So I win, right? Okay probably facing imminent phone cut off, especially as Vodafone – with staggering ironic timing – then called me asking for any feedback regarding their services.

Probably wished they hadn’t.

So flushed with failure, I attempt to wrest control of my administration nightmare with a multiple-no-choice assault on the DVLA. In a rare and welcome example of joined up Government, it seems my gurning passport photo can be seamlessly transferred to my driving license with nary a filled in form or extreme post office queuing all for the princely bribe ofΒ£20.

Except I can’t. The electronic form burped me out once it established a tiny discrepancy between names on the two documents. We’re not talking much here; Alex Leigh on one, Reisling J. Pineapple The Third on the other that kind of thing, but no amount of 20-year-IT-Man-and-Boy shouting at the screen garnered any progress.

So back to the hated IVR. Boredom ruined my first attempt with random button jabbing leaving me in some repeating cul-de-sac. For some low-rent entertainment, second time round I counted the number of menus, sub menus and options. I ran out of fingers just before I ran out of enthusiasm but was shocked from my increasing torpor by a human saying one thing and meaning something else entirely.

Try it next time you hear “Hello, how can I help?” have a proper listen to gain the real meaning which is “reading OK magazine, go and read the web site, call back if you’re still stuck, it won’t be me you speak too“. I explained in great detail the issue I’d had, how I’d tried to work around it, what options I’d considered and a proposal that would save me from a possible stabbing in Hereford Post Office.

For all my hard work, reasoned argument and lucid rationale I received a response from the best of the best that the DVLA can offer.

“No”.

IVR? I think it’s probably call centre short hand for “That half an hour of life you had? It’s ours ALL OURS MWWWAAAAHHHHH”

* I couldn’t think of an angry work starting with R. Rapscallioned? Rucked off?

This. And That.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, PhotographyLeave a comment

This:
Black Mountains Loop - April 2011

is one memory of a properly fantastic day in the mountains.

And that has just clocked a 1,000 kilometres without feeling the urge to tear itself apart like the previous incarnation.
Black Mountains Loop - April 2011

And, after beer and sleep. I shall try and write some more about how ace those two things allied with old friends and stunning weather has made my day/week/holiday πŸ™‚

Lush

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, PhotographyLeave a comment

BlueSmell Ride

Not one of my favourite words. Especially when used to describe an everyday object and/or an attractive member of the opposite sex. Try as I might, it’s hard to improve upon “I tell thee what, tha scrubs up well for a plain lass”*. Honest, hint of northern romanticism and in snogging distance of affectionate. So Lush, rubbish word but entirely appropriate composite of Lust and Dust.

Actually it isn’t at all, that’d be, er, Lust. Or Dust. Never mind, we’ve got this far may as well plough on and ignore my inability to combine two four letter words. Two rides in the Forest this week – and one more to follow – have raised the bar high for perfect singletrack mountain-biking this year.

This time last year, the country was basically under snow and the bluebells were trapped below that wintry blanket. This Spring of sunshine and no showers has seen them cover acres of Forest, and already they’re wilting back. Best get some sustained viewing from the height of a bike then.

Last night the “Malvern’rs” were treated to a 25k of lust/lush/dust singletrack, most of which was perfectly framed by swaying columns of bluebells. Since I was mostly route-finding – simply achieved by asked David riding next to me where we were going – out on point with the fellas in close attendance was the default downhill configuration.

Which is all fine, except for the massive distractions of dust whipping off the tyres into eyes entirely focussed on the periphery leaving almost no visual assistance to a brain demanding a little help on the next muscle movement. Flowing, nose to tail, through singletrack is one of the absolutely emotions to explain to those not obsessed by bicycles.

Let’s go with Lush for the moment shall we?

* Not that I’ve ever tried it myself. a) because women are one of the few things on this planet that regularly render me speechless and b) because a hard-swung bit of 2×4 is unlikely to improve my day.