Postby srl » Mon Aug 19, 2013 7:22 pm
A story in two parts.
This morning, I decided to ride from Thornleigh down to Macquarie Park via Sutherland Rd in Beecroft. Haven't gone this way for a while because you have to carry the bike up a set of stairs from one back street up to Sutherland and while not difficult, kind of disrupts the flow. Anyway, in the back streets of Penno, a dude in an old Hilux doesn't see me, goes, props, goes, stops and then, finally, goes again. By this time, I have jumped off the bike and gave a pretty benign "I'm right here!" gesticulation. Wasn't rude, but certainly exasperated because, well, I quite like being alive versus the alternative.
He drives really close, flips the bird and he is, no joke, apoplectic with rage. Red face. The whole deal. Bear in mind it is 10 past 7 and he can be no more than 1 minute from his home given he is coming out of a dead end. Tells me to F off, so I respond in kind. He stops, winds down the windows and shouts at me to "come here". I in turn suggest he's dreaming and ride off. I then hear him reverse the ute and start pursuing me down a very quiet back street. It gets tricky at this point, as my memory of the route is a little hazy. I turn down the next street - dead end - and start to worry a bit before realising this is Clement Close, from where I can climb steps to Sutherland. I also realise the guy has come to his senses and turned around, although I have to say I rode the entire length of Sutherland waiting for a white Hilux to side swipe me. By the way, I am wearing a bright yellow jacket, with a set of flashing white lights. I think I am doing my best to be seen, and I ride really defensively, assuming everyone is trying to kill me.
This afternoon, I elect to ride via Browns Waterhole and KPR but this morning spooked me, it's fair to say. So, halfway up KPR I turn down Monteith and decide to work my way up to Fox Valley Rd and across to Hinemoa in Normanhurst. Never again. I took what can only be described as the rollercoaster of Campbell Drive. If I hadn't been riding Sparky the electric pushy, I might still be out there, dragging my sorry arse up one of its numerous French Alp hills. I think I could smell burning from the bike's motor on one climb, although it could have been one of my brain circuits overheating. Finally got home, but well and truly stuffed. Never again.
Back to riding via Waitara, Wahroonga and KPR, methinks.