Books by Glenda Young

Sunday, May 01, 2016

Sutton Bank

Settling down today to watch cycling on the telly as Le Tour de Yorkshire follows the route of one of my favourite journies.  It's the route between Middlesbrough and Scarborough. Regular readers will know how fond I am of Scarbados!

Anyway, one of the climbs that the cyclists will be doing today is the climb up Sutton Bank. It's a tough one to do in a car, never mind on bike.

One summer, when we were kids, my dad hired a car to drive us to Scarborough. We couldn't afford a car of our own at the time, so he used to hire a brand new car when they were released each August for our two weeks holiday.

Off we set in our brand new hire car in August en route to Scarborough for our summer holidays. Dad was driving. Mam was in the passenger seat popping a mint imperial into dad's mouth every now and then as he gripped the steering wheel and navigated the bends and turns of the A19.

Dad turned the car off the A19, the brand new hire car he was so chuffed to bits with.  The car headed into the countryside, fields and hills surrounded us, pretty. Gorse bushes and heather guided our way. We saw the signs to Sutton Bank. Dad was overjoyed. Up, up we went in our brand new hire car. Up Sutton Bank. Up, up, up.... and that's when the car conked out, steam hissing out of the engine. Cars behind us honked their horns, they couldn't pass, stuck on the incline. Slowly they inched past us as dad waved down a friendly passing motorist who said he'd ring the AA or RAC or whoever it was that came and towed our brand new hire car to Scarborough.

Sutton Bank.

Good luck, cyclists.

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Glenda Young books

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