No Tour for Wombat

Wombat sat slumped on his favourite chair... his body aching all over.. He'd given up the idea of riding in Le Tour de France.. His bike shorts pinched too much and he kept falling off his exercise bike. Wombats just weren't built for riding bikes.

The sealer for him was when he tried to practise hill climbing. He didn't have any hills near him so Wombat decided to train on his stairs. He opened the front door... wheeled his bike down to the letter box... lined himself up with the staircase and took off. The bit up the path was OK.. he flew over the doorstep and across the landing. His dream of wearing the polka dot jersey was looking good... but then he hit the stairs... Wombats are strong - everyone knows that. Wombat could dig up a storm and his legs were bulging with powerful muscles, so Wombat knew he had the strength to get up the staircase. The problem was that his bike wasn't so keen....

He hit the first step and the bike stalled. Wombat went sailing over the handlebars, did a couple of somersaults mid air and came to a crashing halt at the top of the stairs. Did it count if you got to the top of the hill without your bike???

Training for Le Tour...

Wombat - resplendent in new, yellow Lycra bike shorts - commenced intense 'Tour de France' training for the day. Three french sticks, five wedges of fromage and two glasses of bordeaux. Being a vegetarian, Wombat wasn't keen on trying frogs legs or snails, but he had found some green jelly frogs (with legs) so figured they would do just as well. It wasn't easy training so hard, but Wombat figured if a job was worth doing, it was worth doing well.

While watching 'le Tour' on television Wombat had quickly picked up the fact that it was important to keep eating to maintain energy levels. That was why Wombat knew this was the sport for him. Eating was his speciality!

Vive le Wombat!

Wombat lay in his warm, cosy bed watching 'Le Tour De France'. "I could do that..." he thought to himself as he reached for another Wombat Bar (chock full of tasty wombat goodness). "A bit of training... a few exercises... buy some Lycra... and I'm there." He could see it all.. The crowds cheering, throwing french sticks and fromage, dazzled by his skill, his daring, his speed.....

Wombat, filled with a new motivation (to wear the yellow jersey for Australia) pulled himself out of bed and up onto his exercise bike. The bike (which had been specially modified to cater for his rather short, stocky legs and arms) groaned in protest as Wombat began pedalling. Round and round went his legs and Wombat imagined himself riding in the breakaway group. The peloton bearing down on them at breakneck speed. Tour leaders crashing in front of him - but Wombat skillfully avoiding the mash of flailing arms and legs... He rode harder as he imagined the finish line coming into view.. Sweat pouring down his nose and dripping onto his fur..

Wombat squinted down at the gauges on the bike to see how far he'd ridden. 0.02 kilometers! He'd better slow down! Didn't want to suffer a burn out on his first day of training. Wombat pulled himself off the exercise bike and slumped to the floor where he lay panting, trying to catch his breath. Maybe he could enter a different 'Tour'. There must be smaller countries than France to ride around....