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TYPES IN - Shimano 105 Compact Groupset.
$639. $40s Shipping.
Hmm, that's still too expensive. What have I left in Paypal? $247s. Ok, I bought those new Contis, good price, hope they're genuine, guy only had 9 Feedbacks.
"Are you coming to bed?"
"Two minutes, yeah."
"Are you on eBay again?"
"No. I'm looking at porn."
"Thank God for that."
Monday, March 11, 2013
Time was getting on Col thought to himself, he’d have to make a move soon or it would be too late. The weather had steadily gotten more and more inclement throughout the day but if he didn’t attempt the trip soon he would have no chance. Zipping his parka up so only his eyes were visible and pulling his beanie over his ears before pulling the hood as tight around his shaven head as he could ,he mumbled to himself ‘well, Colin, it’s now or never’. He looked down to his feet and as usual he noticed he was ill prepared for the task ahead, but with the weather seeming to get worse by the minute he realised that if he didn’t act decisively now then any chance he may have had would be gone. Slowly he set off, his middle age frame more reminiscent of a frail old eighty year as he had to stoop into the piercing, frozen gale that was blowing snowflakes the size of 50 pence pieces into his exposed eyes and covering the fur of his parka hood, weighing it down so it drooped in front of his increasingly frozen face. The snow had definitely reached blizzard proportions and was settling like a thick shag pile carpet under his feet which incidentally felt like they were turning into frozen blocks of ice. Even though the night was pitch the fresh fallen snow created that odd sensation which made it look more like twilight when he looked at the ground. If Col looked behind him he would see that his footprints were disappearing almost as quickly as he was making them. With a steely determination though he fought through the worsening storm, keeping his spirits up by thinking he might actually make it. With head bowed and a about a mile clocked up on the trek he could just make out a twinkling light which gave the adventurer a lift. He smiled to himself even though he was frozen to the bone. As the light shone a little brighter through the worsening onslaught of snow, he allowed himself to believe he was actually going to make it. Closer and closer, the light beckoning him like a siren to a sailor, Col trudged on, until finally he reached his destination and the familiar vision in front of him came as such a relief that he fair pushed the door off its hinges before he shouted ‘The usual please Hayley, and a bag of scratching whilst you’re at it!’
First thing’s first, we’re not hardened career criminals. Just four blokes who needed a cash boost. Tommy, Johnno, Bernie and me had been mates since we met on the bricklaying course . I was fresh from failing my A-levels (in the days when they were bloody hard), Tommy and Johnno were the same, but Scottish. Bernie was actually planning his career in the building trade – he had a business to take over eventually.
It was this business that put us in our current predicament. True enough, Bernie had inherited his dad’s business after he died, only to have absolutely no business brain. This meant the company quickly went downhill. It was on the verge of going bust when Tommy had the plan. “We can rob a bank,” he said in his thick Glaswegian accent. “I saw it done a few times when I were a kid.”
“That’s all well and good” I responded. “But how in God’s name do you suggest we get away with it?!”
So Tommy told us. First thing, you get yourself a good mask, to cover your face. Secondly, you get something scary to wave about – doesn’t have to be guns, or even real guns. Third, a reliable getaway driver in a non-descript car. Finally, you’ll need a good hideaway and trustworthy connections.
So, we got our masks. Mine was a good ski mask, two eyes and a mouth. Real menacing. The others had similar ideas – they got exactly the same mask as me. Tommy used his slightly dodgy connections to lay his hands on a couple of fake pistols. I got my baseball bat from in the loft and knocked a few nails into it. Bernie brought his dad’s old hunting knife. Johnno got us a getaway driver. More of that later. Finally, Bernie borrowed the keys to his dad’s canal boat – he thought it would be a great idea to mix lying low with a boating trip!
We were dropped off outside the bank, and in we ran, shouting and waving our weapons about. The cashier starting filling the bags, and it was going smoothly until Johnno sneezed, and Bernie, forgetting himself, said – out loud the stupid bastard – “bless you, Johnno.”
Tommy was distracted from waving his toy gun at the manager, and cursed him. “Bernie you tit, what did we say about not using names!” This was all the manager needed, and ‘BAM’ the alarm was triggered. We legged it outside to where the car should have been. Only for the car not to be there.
Never use a taxi as a getaway car!