New equipment trials:

Eager to test his new 'equipment', Oakley insisted on company to cover any unforeseen eventualities.
Arriving at the Pikey Camp in Wootton Green close to 4.30 pm, things had to go right to avoid arriving back in the moonless dark of Monday evening.
Initial Campagnolo ease of use saw Oakley sashay to the base of Cranfiled hill without incident. Attempting a ring and gear change at the incline, he soon found himself unintentionally in the lowest gear - cadence rising to rival the pelvic rhythm of a Greek waiter pounding a Retsina-lubricated newly divorced social worker from Pontefract on holiday with the 'girls'.
Recovering himself, and refusing to admit confusion at the new gearing arrangement, we headed to the Ouse valley.
It was here that we met not one, but three separate floods. Faced with traversing the narrow flood walkway, Oakley bravely attempted to quell the rising fear catalysed by his twin aquapphobic and vertigo ailments - calmly juggling the mixture of facial tics, sphinctral lapses and sebaceous excretion whilst blindly tip-toeing through the rising waters.
Passing Carlton and Felmersham, Radwell proved the sternest test. Coping with the ravages of water and height, the challenge was compounded by the fiercely protective local wildlife.
Fearing attack by Oakley's hairpiece, the riled whoopers cob swan bravely defended it's lifelong mate - hissing and flapping in a frightening display. Showing little courage, Oakley's rug jumped clear and made use of a passing raft of branches, making a swift exit to the far bank of the floodplain.  The rider fared less well, blaming the lapping waters for the growing wetness to his Pearl Izumi padded shorts. A sad tale of enuresis!
Replacing his scalp-warmer, surely little else could happen? Wrong!
With night descending in dark waves, Oakley was guilty of riding first with no light (carelessly forgetting to fit the Catseye jumbo strap for the swollen front bars), and then no lights as he fell victim to the rollercoaster ride of the Milton Ernest potholes. Darting between the traffic, the rear light was recovered in pieces. Though the flashing beacon worked, the cover and mount were broken - Oakley riding the last few miles with the light in his rear pocket - appearing as some rabid animal having swallowed a belisha beacon.
Surely Oakley will never forget the first ride on his Basso!!