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Rise of the Tin Man James Cox recalls how Clint Reynolds was put through his paces after breaking his femur on the latest Bicycle Union roadtrip
In my editing studio at home I have a calendar with all my scheduled filming trips marked on it, each trip neatly coloured in with a highlighter and detailed with the team, location of the shoot and other such useful information over the dates in which the excursion takes place. I usually tend to mark these squares on the calendar as soon as I’m told about the trip in question, which can sometimes be months before the event. The result of this is that I can sometimes forget what I’ve got scheduled, so upon turning the page in my calendar from one month to the next, those little highlighted squares will jump out at me unexpectedly. This isn’t a big deal, us filmers travel a lot and packing a bag and getting to an airport at short notice isn’t anything to panic about. If anything, it’s usually a nice surprise – “Oh, I’m off to Spain next week, lovely stuff.” However, there is one exception – the annual Bicycle Union trip. This is the last trip you would ever want to creep up on you without warning, as inside those neatly coloured-in squares which indicate the dates of this particular trip, the only details would read: THERE WILL BE TERRIBLE DISASTERS AND STRESSFUL SITUATIONS ON SOME IF NOT
ALL OF THESE DAYS. Getting ready for this IS a big deal. It IS something to panic about. New items are added to my standard roadtrip inventory. Extra strength painkillers, arctic survival gear, super glue, GPS system, extra shoes. I pack with shaking hands. What will happen this time? The van will at some point be immobile on the side of the road, surrounded by tyre-kickers, that’s a given. We will find ourselves very lost every day. Rushmore will run out of weed and lose his marbles, again a given. Every night we will drive around until at least 3:00am looking for somewhere to sleep. All these events are standard, that’s what makes them Bicycle Union trips. It’s everything else I’m worried about. As I am readying to leave for the airport I mentally double-check my belongings. I feel prepared. Anxious, but prepared. At least I know it’s coming. The brightly coloured squares on my calendar gleam at me as I reach to turn off the light in the studio. “It’ll be fun!” they seem to giggle at me. “No it fucking won’t” I reply. It’s day two, or could it be day three? The late nights are blurring the lines between days. Either way, I know that we haven’t been away that long. Yeah, we’ve been
Words by JAMES COX Photography by JOHN DYE