Conservatives, cowards and canetoads

Three things that are not my favourite in this world, but I digress. The first lot had their say mid-morning. I had to go and see a client today -- a five minute walk from my office, so I walked. I returned after the appointment to find the (not totally unexpected) "get a taxi" e-mail in my inbox. This does, of course, follow on from this issue from last month. I'm not expecting to hear any more about this one, but quite frankly, I'm getting a little tired of the attitude that people in this part of the world have to the fact that I use a bike for transport.

I've made a choice that is quite legitimate in the eyes of the law, extremely economical and certainly more efficient if my travel times are any indication. Yet it seems that in this most conservative of Australian cities that anything which even suggests in the most vague manner that there are other alternatives to the motor car are somehow seen as taboo. For God's Sake people, it's a bicycle, why is this a f*cking problem? As I said when the issue arose, there's something I'm not being told here, but to be honest that isn't my concern. However, if this continues to be an issue, I will walk. I think the Manic Street Preachers best summed it up with these people: "So lazy, lazy, lazy, chuck down all the pills; Needing to remember, how and why to live."

The second was more amusing than anything else -- the number of people in the aforementioned motor cars who also have problems with bicycles, but also lack the guts to specify their problem to my face. Like the jerk in Southport who yelled out some unintelligible gibberish out his window as he "sped" off. Of course, when I caught and passed him and his mate in the gridlock a few minutes later (something I did effortlessly, despite the headwind), they were strangely silent.

Didn't stop the next moron, however. A surfie kid leaning out the car window, this time I was able to make out what he said, just as he was able to make-out the shape of my middle finger*. Then, of course, he started screaming even more, pounding the car door, and generally making a spectacle of himself. Just when I needed a good laugh. The really funny part was that he kept it up for the 2km or so that I managed to keep him in sight. Again, lacking the balls to say it to my face, but from the protection of a big car, with plenty of side-streets he can accelerate down if I get too close (not that I bothered). Still, if morons can make me laugh like this, I mightn't move away after all.

It was after work that I encountered the canetoads, but this was part of something positive for a change. Martin and I headed to The Spit for a couple of laps of night-time singletrack heaven, with a couple of detours out along the breakwall with waves crashing around us -- and plenty of ocean spray in the air. Now this was pleasant, and surprisingly taxing in that headwind. The wind had deposited a lot of sand on the track, which made for a few interesting moments (and filled my shoes). Indeed, I managed to pull off one or two dramatic saves out there. A great night all in all.