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The 19th with Joe O'Muircheartaigh 19th The 19th
The 19th with Joe O'Muircheartaigh 19th The 19th | The 19th |
| Written by Joe O'Muircheartaigh | |
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ON a summer’s afternoon in 1986 the door bell rang at our home house in Blackrock, Co. Dublin. Outside was a man decked out in cycling garb – the jersey wasn’t yellow, it’s wasn’t the polka dotted one for King of Mountains either. It should have been both. He had the cycling shorts, the helmet and the geansaí that was probably green and gold – don’t think he went the whole cycling hog and shaved the legs. Still, he looked fit and fresh as he dismounted outside our house. As he did came the inevitable question. “What’s with the rothar,” I asked my uncle Breandán, who at that time was living in Seattle. “I cycled,” he said matter of factly. “From the ferry terminal in Dun Laoghaire,” he added. Understated or what, because there was more – much more. “That was the last leg of my journey.”{mosimage} Registration is required to view this content, registration is FREE |
