In Search Of My Mojo

I was born in 1969.  So, apart from the less-than-3 months in which I cried, poo’d and drank my way through the 60’s, I was a child of the 1970’s.

As soon as I was old enough to get weekly “spends” (10p a week) and be allowed to walk to the nearest shop, I learned that the greatest value for money that a 5 year-old could realise was to exchange 10p for a mixed bag of 3-per-penny chews.

Three-for-a-penny chews came in two varieties:

  1. Black Jacks:  Turned your tongue black. Tasted of an unidentifiable fruit-based chemical. Were vaguely racist.
  2. Mojos:  Were fruit coloured. Tasted of chemically-enhanced fruit. Weren’t socially questionable.

So, I spent my money on Mojos. Every week.

OK in the 1970's, but where's my Mojo now?

Where do you find YOUR Mojo?

Now I’m 42, I can’t buy Mojos at three for a penny.  As far as I’m aware, I can’t buy them anywhere.  So, on ride nights and every other Saturday, I have to look for my Mojo within myself.

Sometimes I find my Mojo. Sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes other people find it for me, and sometimes other people drag me out on my bike even when I can’t find my Mojo.  At these times I’m grateful.

At other times, when I can’t find my Mojo, I sit on the sofa in my riding gear, wondering where my Mojo is.  Those aren’t the good times.

Where do you find yours?

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4 comments on “In Search Of My Mojo

  1. Lloyd Lemons

    I wish I could buy Mojo, that would solve a lot of problems. I don’t really have any personal relationships that help me in that area, so it all has to come from within. The social cycling networks I’ve established help a great deal. I share with like-minded people (like you), and that supplies me with the Mojo to ignore my back pain and get out on my bike. Once I’m on the road, my Mojo flows nicely, and lasts me for the rest of the day. Two wheels, on the road, wind in my face (a few bugs in my teeth), and I’m good to go! It’s what keeps me going everyday.


  2. Phill

    Wise words, Lloyd. The most difficult part is (for me) getting out of the door before the time ticks away. Some days I’m sat there procrastinating in my biking gear until I have less than an hour left until the next important thing to do. On those days I kick myself afterwards.
    Thankfully, those days aren’t too often.

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