'Tis the season...

It must be the stress of the festive season, but there has been some odd behaviour of late in the interweb.

This little contact popped up in my mail account this morning and started messaging me, so I tried the David Thorne approach, failed to be anywhere near as witty, but here it is in it's banal totality:-

jennyjbwrgirl: Hey

S: HI

jennyjbwrgirl: hiya sweety how r u...glad you finally messaged me!!!!

S: Ahhh, I didn't you messaged me.

jennyjbwrgirl: Was starting to think no body wanted to talk with me...So whatcha ya up to sweety?

S: Not much, just reading A Brief History of Time

jennyjbwrgirl: Im just hangin out..I have the place to myself, my roommie left on vacation for the week so I get to play around in my thong...lol

S: How do you play with one jandel?

jennyjbwrgirl: So what you wearin cutie?

S: A full latex suit with frilly manties

jennyjbwrgirl: I know we just met but im really turned on right now...Its just a little naughty fun on my camera...You UUP for it dude???

S: No, my dog is eating my shoes so not at the moment.

jennyjbwrgirl: k my cam is ran thru a chat network to keep the Yahoo kiddos away from me so dont worry if you dont have a web cam or yours won't work ok? I gotcha hooked up baby!

S: Will it be painful?

jennyjbwrgirl: K here's the link to my cam it's http://www.x.se/gduc go there and you should see me, accept the "free invite button" before it expires, I use this site so neither of us can be filmed

jennyjbwrgirl: ...?

S: I have twenty three scallops to cook right now, and a mouse that is chewing a hole in my baking, what do you think the most effective rat bait is?

jennyjbwrgirl: KK, put in your details,first and last name, make sure you write your right b-day k?

jennyjbwrgirl: Where did you go?

S: Will that provide me with a full detailed pest eradication programme, or does it require retraining to fit the suit correctly?

jennyjbwrgirl: credit card, debit, or ATM is to verify you're an adult...I had to do the same thing myself... cant show tits and pussy to children..you know?

S: I had an issue with my neighbours cat barfing all over my back deck, was dreadful. What is the best cleaning agent in these instances?

jennyjbwrgirl: k let me know when u get your username and password from the site and make sure you use that to sign in with and type it just like as they gave it to you with hyphens or whatever just make sure it lets you in

jennyjbwrgirl: Where did you go?

S: Sorry I was just chasing a feral animal of unknown providence from my kitchen, it smelt of glue and asthma inhalers. Do you think I should try and stop it escaping into the wild?

jennyjbwrgirl: ok u in yet babe??

S: The other day I caught two people picking apricots, what should I do?

jennyjbwrgirl: k when u login click on the second page, and I'm the pretty brunete! You will have to guess which one i am! ( I have a suprise for you)

S: A surprise, will it be donuts. I love donuts.

jennyjbwrgirl: I'm sure its pretty obvious who I am, hope you hurry!

jennyjbwrgirl: ...Hello?

S: I'm going as fast as I can, but my manacles are a trifle restricting

jennyjbwrgirl: Im still waiting for you talk to me in there, Im going to get off of my yahoo messenger so just message to me on that site :=} can't wait to show you what i have for a surpise

jennyjbwrgirl: Hello??

S: Superb, will it be a jigsaw? I need a new one.

S: Oh, and can you arrange for a chap to come and visit to repair the little hole left in the floorboards by the last visit from Bob the Pegleg?

She signed off...

Deeper Well

And so to the Women's race in the Rabodirect New Zealand Criterium Championships.

The Wrecking Ball

Friday night, Takapuna. Those who have read this far will know exactly what I'm referring to, and, I guess, the photos give it away. Great racing, excellent crowd and a superb course made for an spectacular evening's entertainment.

I was lucky enough to be able to photograph a lot of it, and over the next few days I will post up some galleries from the various races. Additionally, I will set up a site with several hundred images on it, from all the various grades. There you'll be able to see a multitude of war faces, pain and suffering, and if you so desire you can obtain that special image.

For all of those who competed, top effort, and thanks for the spectacle.

As a complete contrast, today several of us rode around the BCL, we were joined by Phil and a couple of others for the first time. It was a very pleasant ride in almost tropical conditions. Good for the soul, and made me forget for a while my aching upper body from the excesses of Friday evening. Once again, The Worm made me look average at the Godley Road Sprint.

The Randomator

On Saturday I took CTB west, no, not in a Pet Shop Boys type way, this was into the Western Marches to reveal to him some of the delights of new paths and territory that I have discovered of late. We noodled about and had a great ride.

I suspect that there will be a Summer Solstice ride in that area soon, and that there will be new cuss words and descriptive phrases coined on that particular day. I'd love to illuminate you all more with my first failure of the weekend, but that would give the game away, so will save it until after some others have experienced the monster that lurks out there.

My second failure of the weekend, now that was a true nightmare, and I have revisited the moment several times, and each time it has the same result.

On Sunday a couple of us headed out to chase Kingfish. It was a glorious day, and there was an abundance of fauna to observe. The kingies were about, but frustrating in their lack of appetite. We were serving up live Jack Mackerel, which were generally ignored. One did receive the rasp treatment from a king, several others were stolen with no hooking of the yellow tailed thieves.

A session with soft baits did bring in the only fish of the day, a glorious 70 cm snapper, caught by the skipper, Mr Ulmer. An utter monster of a fish, he was beautiful.

Then, while drifting some more live baits, my live bait was struck and the reel screamed. I leapt up and grabbed the rod from the holder. What happened next, entirely my own fault, was the stuff of noviceville and deserving of full mockery. I, in my haste, turned the clicker off and struck the fish hard. What I failed to do was engage the reel in gear. The reel spun rapidly, and in the blink of an eye was a mess of bird's nested monofilament.

Two of us struggled for what seemed to be an eternity, but was probably all of ten seconds, with the bird's nest, trying to get the reel working. Then the fish felt the hook and started accelerating. All I could do then was hang on, as the rod bent over, the line tightened and then snapped. What followed was silence from the skipper and a torrent of foul language from me.

While I ranted for a bit, then sulked with the rod and reel, the skipper looked at me with a mixture of disdain, amusement and pity, all well deserved. After a long time, I calmed, readied the gear for action again, and returned to the fray, but the quarry was long gone.

It was the one that got away. Next time...

Brother Number Two

I encountered, a couple of times, the bastard version of the BCL again recently, and while I did set the record straight, I'm quite bemused has to how it morphed from one ride to something quite different running in the oppposite direction. But it did get me thinking, that it's about time that I organised an official outing and roll around the genuine article for old times sake.

This time last year, I organised a ride around it, but after getting waylaid the night before due to a winning streak at poker, imbibing more than my fair share of christmas cheer and then wandering home without sleeping in anyone's front yard to get two hours sleep before Mikeal and Doris arrived to find me still in my cups, I was useless. Suffice to say, I missed the ride, which was by all accounts a very good ride, and I was shamed.

To that end, I wish to make amends and run the ride again, on Sunday 12 December, meeting at 7:30am at the corner of Dominion Road and Balmoral Roads, all are welcome, this time, I've checked my social calender, and made sure that I will be ethanol free the night before.

And no cards either...

Here's some good reading from someone, Gayle Brownlee, who actually races her bike, instead of daydreams about it like me.

A live donkey is better than a dead lion, isn't it?

The title is a quote from Ernest Shackleton in his letters to his wife, referring to his failure to reach a particular goal in polar exploration. To a lesser degree it's also an apt title for cycling as a recreational activity.

The recent death on Tamaki Drive has prompted a degree of irrational debate and provocation from all sides that appears to be achieving very little apart from making various tub thumpers feel vindicated.

I have resisted putting fingers to keyboard on this issue this week, especially in light of recent editorial and journalistic opinion in the NZ Herald, which has been one dimensional in it's treatment of a very complex issue. Unfortunately this one-dimensional view seems to be present across the spectrum on this issue. Few commentators appear to want to engage in the deeper thought process required to offer useful suggestions.

Lance Wiggs' Ten Ways to stop killing cyclists is one of the few that is a little more pragmatic and reasoned. You need not necessarily agree with all he argues, but it is thought provoking, without being antagonistic.

CAA's suggestions have been at best knee-jerk, and at worst the same message that they have been preaching for years. CAA have had a number of successes in the Auckland region, with huge input and lobbying in the creation of cycleways, and safer roading, but their profile is low, and muddied by other groups. They also tend to alienate many regular cyclists with their slightly zealous nature.

CAA are hosting a memorial ride tonight, along Tamaki Drive, I only heard about it by chance and what this will achieve I'm unsure, and without any decent public awareness of the event, I'm uncertain as to it's impact.

Then we have Facebook...I saw a group calling themselves "Respect for NZ cyclists, we are drivers to" (sic), quickly, where are they driving to? Seriously, how can one expect to be taken as credible with that sort of knee-jerk posting/title? It all starts to remind me of Monty Python and The Life of Brian - People's front of Judea vs The Judean People's Front.

At the present time BikeNZ have been notably absent from the debate, and to my thinking, this would be an ideal opportunity for them to raise their profile and step out of their apparently moribund state. I believe they should be at the front of this debate and campaign, not leaving it to small factions to squabble and the likes of yours truly to poke holes.

Anyway, now something trifle, but interesting. Just in case any of you are creationists, flat earthers, or otherwise occupying the lunatic fringe of thinking. The irrefutable proof of us, Homo sapiens, having a common ancestor with higher primates lies in this compelling piece of evidence - we can't synthesise vitamin C, neither can chimps. From Sciblogs and Brendan Moyle:-

One of the most compelling pieces of evidence is the vitamin C pseudogene [2] Chimps and humans have one extraordinary thing in common. Neither of these two species can synthesise vitamin C. That’s why we (& chimps) need to eat fruit and vegetables to get vitamin C in our diet. Otherwise we get scurvy and die. The curious fact is that this is caused by both chimps and humans having the same broken gene. This mutation occurred about 6mya. We are in effect, the only species to have this exact, same, broken gene. (Guinea pigs also can’t synthesis vitamin C but that’s caused by a different mutation).

To quote Eddie Izzard - Monkey, monkey, monkey...you!

Far Too Many

Some of you have already had my angry ramblings this morning, but for those of you who haven't, here we go!

This last week has been a terrible week for cyclists of the New Zealand Roads, with five killed in five days. There is nothing that will bring those people back, restore their families and erase the grief. My heart goes out to them all.

I'm not going to get into the whole road user/road safety debate. Not because I'm a chicken, or afraid, but because I've already written about it, here Last October

What I am concerned about is, that yet again, we will have an emotional, media fuelled argument, populated with misinformation, and anecdotal evidence that will do little to better the cause of road safety in New Zealand.

The NZ Herald this morning, have in their usual way, already started with misinformation around cycling crash and injury rates. In the online edition they have stated "Last night's accident was between the Kitemoana St and Atkin Ave intersections with Tamaki Drive, which were last year identified as black spots for cycling crashes in Auckland.In 2008 and 2009, there were 24 crashes in that stretch near Bastion Pt involving cyclists, including six that caused serious injuries"

However according to the Maxx (ARTA) crash analysis map which derives it's data from the 200 most recent cycle vs motor vehicle crashes in the central Auckland region as extracted from the MOT's Crash Analysis System in February 2010, there have been four minor injury accidents on that stretch of road (three 2009, one 2008).

The mapsets are a useful resource and can be found here -

Auckland Crash Map (Central)

Auckland Crash Map (West)

Auckland Crash Map (East)

Auckland Crash Map (North)

Auckland Crash Map (South)

A variation of the truth, methinks NZ Herald, this is not good for the cause of cycling, or road safety as a whole.

What concerns me is that this debate, which at the moment has the media on the side of the cyclists, could easily go the other way, and then we will have the sharp end of the pointy stick. Example, would anyone be happy having to ride on the current bike path on Tamaki Drive? I think not, but I'll wager very good money that before the week is out, someone will have made that suggestion in earnest, and that there will be a hue and cry about cyclists riding on the road instead of a congested footpath/cyclepath.

Remember, and it is cold comfort, statistically cycling in NZ is as safe as it's ever been, plan your route well, think defensively. And while these terrible tragedies are a timely reminder, riding on the road was no more dangerous last week, or last year. Don't let this stop you riding, it's your presence and visibility, along with obeying the road rules and riding responsibly and sharing the road that will help with the cause of improving road safety.

I don't go by what he says

On Saturday we had the first committee ride of the Auckland Central Cycling Club. It was in very pleasant conditions and a good bunch of bunch of folk that made for a fun ride. I did get handed my backside up Carter Road by Richard Justice. I was hanging onto his wheel for grim death as he made it look all too easy. I knew my heartrate was a little high. Then I made the fatal error of looking at it. Like vertigo, it made me wobble and was sufficient, along with one of the little gradient changes, to snap my rubber band and cast me adrift.

Here's the great blog that I found the video that I featured in my last post, North Of Ten. This chap is pretty representative of what's going on with BMX at the moment, and really tickles my fancy. My Loinfruit is an even greater fan. What's not to like about fun, passion and the odd blow to the happysack?

Heart of it all

Knickers! Isn't that just a great word?

Anyhow, was cruising through Zombie BMX this morning with the Village Idiot and found this little clip. If it doesn't make you smile you are already dead!

Also expand it up to full screen, it's been filmed in HD and is as sharp as an old wive's tongue.

Erik Elstran's Dragon Shredit (internet edition) from North of Ten on Vimeo.

Making a liar of Orpheus

There are certain procedures that every rider should engage in post race or event. They range from the obvious, to the arcane, and I'm not going to lay them out in another lengthy ramble. But there is on procedure that should always be followed, and that is to remove the sticker with your race number from your helmet.

On Sunday just been, a rider who may care to remain nameless, fronted up to the ride with his K2 race number still firmly attached to his helmet. Thankfully Mikeal the Onastic pointed out the heinous crime and the offending item was removed from the nameless rider's helmet, thereby saving both him and the rest of us the stigma of a Fred.

Violence may be offered

K2, it's passed for another year, this time with me as a spectator. I'd argue that the conditions this year were the worst that event has been run in, and made for an additional few challenges.

My plan was to go down, watch the bunches cross over the Kereta Hill after the start, zip through the windy 309 Road, watch the misery on Pumpkin Hill, add support and then nip back through The 309 Road and up Whangapoua Hill to watch the final misery.

It started well, and the conditions atop Kereta weren't too bad. The bunches came through in a steady procession, Tristan and The Croc safely tucked in their group, large smiles. Serge wasn't in his group, he was adrift, obviously the lurg that he had been fighting had got the better of him on the day.

After they had passed through I drove the, initially dusty, 309 Road. Close to the summit it went from dust to heavy rain and gusty wind. That weather persisted right through to the main road. By the time I got to the top of Pumpkin Hill, there wasn't rain, but it was windy and less than tropical, I could see rain around me and back up towards Hikuai. It was at this point that any pangs of jealousy about riding the event disappeared and I was quite happy to be on the side of the road.

The bunches came through, and again The Croc and Tristan were neatly tucked in their bunch, although the face of Tristan was less than a picture of happiness. I had calculated that I needed to be off Pumpkin Hill by 12:00 at the absolute latest if I wanted to see them crest Whangapoua. I also wanted to see Serge come over Pumpkin and provide a bit of support.

He scraped through at 11:58, with a face like stone and a few gestures, it wasn't a happy day to be Serge's body. He resisted the offer of a dry motor vehicle interior and carried on riding.

I raced back to the top of Whangapoua, and there met windy and moist conditions. Thankfully my wait wasn't too long, with first The Croc and then Tristan appearing. Both of them looked relieved that the suffering was at an end. After they had gone over the top, I didn't muck around and drove back down to the finish. On the way down I followed a very nervous descender, the road was greasy, but this chap was more than a little nervous. On the approach into one 25kph corner he grabbed a bit more than a handful of brake, wheels let go, he then let the brakes go, then went all the way across the road, ending up on the wrong side of the road, just short of the barrier. Thankfully he stayed upright and there wasn't a car coming the other way. I grabbed the camera and squirted off a quick shot as evidence of this tale. I won't post the pic here as the kit is distinctive and I'm not so sure this Hamilton based rider would want his moment of shame shared.

The Croc and Tristan both finished in the top 20 and a time of under 5:40, Serge soldiered on and finished an hour later. Well done to all of them for completing a tough ride on a very hard day.

Next year I will return to the start line, on Saturday there was a village missing it's idiot.

A photogenic memory

Oh, shut up Stuart!

This morning I rose early and rolled round the BCL, it was a truly pleasant experience. Balmy temperatures, no wind, dry roads, little traffic and the Tchek, tchek, tchek of Kingfishers and trilling of Riroriro. My heart would be a barren place if it was untouched.

Early in the piece, along the Northwestern Bike path, then further out I did get to witness another cretin contribute to the wrong side of the cycling ledger. Here's the checklist :-

No back light - tick

Ignore other riders and greetings - tick

Ride across Lincoln Road at speed through red light - tick

The yellow jacket of safety - tick

Thankfully the better part of the ride ahead saved me from mulling over this fool and his actions for too long.

The K2 is upon us and I'm not taking part as a rider. This will be the second time since the event started that I've sat it out. Unlike last time when I gave it a miss and sulked, this time I am going down to watch, take some photos, provide moral support and mockery and am thoroughly looking forward to it. The forecast is looking damn good, and it will be a great experience to watch others chew wasps and make gorilla faces while I enjoy the sun and the views.

I'm quite certain that Tristan, Serge and The Crocodile are all going to regret my presence at some stage or rather when they are in a place that hurts and there's a familiar looking buffoon on the side of the road hurling sagely advice.

I will report back in due course.

Smurfing

The equinox, a month of wind and changeable weather. Yesterday I went for a ride, my fitness and strength are somewhat pitiful at the present time. On my struggle out to Puketutu Island, across the causeway, into a SW blast, I held at kingly 18 kph and endured an HR of 173bpm. Who needs to ride hills with that sort of stupidity.

The crossing of the Mangere Bridge was fun, with gusts and sideways movements. Nothing like the day I was silly enough to ride and race in similar conditions around Akarana's Mangere Mountain circuit with a Tri-Spoke rear and Cosmic front. Handling was a little testing to say the least.

Anyway, here's something very graceful.

An octopus

The Orange Peril

On reflection, every day has a challenge or two in it, and some days those challenges are greater than others. On Sunday a rider, who shall remain nameless lest he shame the Bianchi more, faced a challenge. The challenge for him was avoiding a fence. The fence in question was no ordinary fence, it was a bright orange section of safety netting, sited in clear view near Monterey Park on Upper Harbour Drive. According to eye witnesses, and also the rider in question, it was in the open and straight in front. Said rider was looking sideways to try and locate the bike path and rode straight into the netting located in front of him. The other riders had already seen this and were able to enjoy the unfolding spectacle. He stretched the netting, then tumbled over onto the concrete on the other side. Thankfully, apart from a few minor bruises and scrapes and a dented pride he was unhurt. By all accounts it was highly amusing to watch.

Onto more cerebral pursuits than enjoying the mistakes of others. I have a variety of constants in my cycling kit that have been almost unwavering over several years and to me, are a matter of personal taste, but are close to essential for my ongoing riding pleasure. The list could be lengthy and include such absolute necessities such as helmet, glasses, etc, but I have chosen a few that have either changed riding patterns and habits for me or have proven unquestioningly reliable and I would recommend without hesitation.

Handbuilt Wheels - Handbuilt wheels used to be the only wheel one could get, then the factory wheels started appearing and became the staple choice for most riders. However I'd happily say from my own experience that handbuilt wheels are a far better choice for all riders. With handbuilt, from a good builder one can get a wheel that will suit your budget, riding style and needs. Tristan Thomas (Wheelworks) has built a couple of pairs of wheels for me, and they are simply superb. Comfortable, stiff, light and very reasonably priced, there's no drawback at all to them. Add in that Tristan is a damned good chap and it makes for a compelling argument for handbuilt wheels

LED lights - The slew of new cycle specific lighting technology that has arrived on the market in the last couple of years has changed riding in the dark for good. Based around LEDs there have been huge gains in battery life and safety, coupled with a massive reduction in size and weight, all at reasonable cost. The newer front and rear flashers mean greater safety in traffic, and the increased light output and longer battery life from the larger kits mean that virtually nowhere is out of bounds sans sunlight.

Velco Closureless Track Mitts - Riding with gloves is a pretty good idea, both for riding comfort (although not essential there) and palm saving for those moments when you do place hands on the deck at speed. I had never been a great fan of the track mitts with velcro closures as they often seemed to peel back, snag clothing and just annoy me. I prefer the elegance and practicality of the gloves without closures. I have sampled Prendas, Assos and Giordana and they have all been great. The Assos saved my palm in February's crit crash and now have a thumbnail sized hole in their palm, but are still servicable. The Giordana offering are less expensive and I'd wager slightly more comfortable, minimal padding Pittards Leather palms, nothing here not to like.

Garmin GPS - I was an early adopter of cycling GPS technology with a Garmin Edge 305. A great piece of kit for seeing where you've been and all the data captured from your ride. However that was moved on as soon as the Edge 705 hit the market. With full mapping and routing capabilities it has been a game changer for exploring, riding in different towns, cities and locales. Not to mention the ability to share rides with people and send them off to enjoy what I have had a grin from.

Good Tyres - I have two tyres that I consider as reliable and no-brain choices. I have had dalliances with a variety of other tyres and have loved the ride of some, the feathery weight of others, but ultimately have always felt let down by reliability or punctures, so now I stick to two known quantities and experiment with others from time to time. The two tyres are:-

Continental GP4 Seasons - I have ridden sets of these tyres for years, wearing out numerous rears and suffering few punctures. To me, they are reliable, ride not that badly for a training tyre, are as bombproof as anything else on a road bike and last a reasonable amount of time. They are sure footed in the wet, handle metal excursions, easy to mount and readily available. I have graduated to the 25mm version a couple of years ago, and never looked back.

Vredestein Fortezza Tricomp - Not superlight, but a lovely riding tyre that is reliable and handles and rides like a charm. A good race tyre, but quite capable of functioning as a training tyre and putting up with all sorts of surfaces without cutting up, or failing.

Selle Italia SLR - I have ridden and worn out three or four of these saddles over the years. Some view them as an ass hatchet, and a weapon of torture, but to me they fit like a charm. That said, the best saddle is the one that you are comfortable on.

Good Local Bike Shop - My local bike shop is the ongoing key to riding pleasure. They are the guys who can solve problems for me, sell me items that I do need, fix the mechanical issues that are beyond me and are hugely important, plus they give me endless friendly grief and make me feel loved in a very special way. My local shop is Planet Cycles on Dominion Road and they are very good to me and my minion, I can't recommend their service highly enough.

Seventy Elephants

One of the perils of racing bikes is that there are a few hazards involved. One of the more unusual risks is the opportunity to wear bodily fluids from another Homo sapiens. Thankfully this has been a rarity in my case, but there is one occasion where this occurred and has left the memory indelibly etched.

The race involved was in Dunedin and ran from the city to Tairoa Head and then back via the high road over the peninsula to Shiel Hill. On this particular day there was a howling southerlie tail wind for the first leg and a block headwind for the return. The tailwind section was the harbour road and almost pancake flat, the return from Portobello on was a decent sized climb, with some undulation on the top and a long gradual descent.

The race was a handicap race, and given my hill climbing prowess I was placed in one of the easy marks. The flat section was pretty uneventful, with my mark catching all the groups ahead of it, and staying clear of the chasers. When we hit the climb, that all changed. By halfway up the climb the field was in tatters and I was well out of the money, having been caught and passed in rapid fashion by a number of the back markers.

As I crested the top, up behind Larnach's Castle, I was passed by a rider, who shall remain nameless, and I latched on to his back wheel like a limpet. The section of road there is rolling, then with a swift descent and a short, stiff climb before the long, gradual final descent. The elements had really turned and we had encountered a couple of cold, wet squalls. The skin on my legs looking like the skin of an uncooked chicken.

As we rocketed down the penultimate descent into a gusty wind, the rider in front cleared his sinuses and expectorated. What launched from his mouth seemed to gain a life of it's own and pulsed and wobbled in slow motion in the wind and draft. I was transfixed by this green death star of mucus that was flying between him and I. All hope was that it would pass me harmlessly, and as it left his draft it veered downward and landed smack on my inner thigh, just below the bottom of my shorts.

There, on my cold, goose pimpled white flesh it clung. A liberal dose of water from my drink bottle did nothing, it stubbornly hang on for the passage. The sheer horror of it made it seem even larger, and to my eyes it was the size of a saucer and mountainous also.

I hit the final climb, and the other rider escaped, I was alone with my cling on. I thought for a moment of stopping and removing it with the aid of grass, but realised that there were still riders behind me, and that I may have still been in the lower limits of the prize-money, so I soldiered on.

When I finally crossed the finish line I was out of the money, but was eternally grateful for the long, wet grass on the side of the road.

Compulsive in creeping

It's not a long time ago that I was thinking that this abysmal winter weather would never end, then we set the clocks forward for daylight savings, and Voila! Spring is upon us. There have appeared those brilliant, fresh green leaves on all the deciduous trees and the sun has some warmth.

I have now managed three rides without armwarmers, and my arms are looking less like white pipecleaners than they were a week ago. I have mixed feelings about tanlines.

Given my bit of Tangata whenua I tan easily and quickly, but that's only on the skin exposed. I'm also a touch leery of skin cancer (although not really enough methinks), so rarely expose my torso, or upper arms. The net result, come mid-summer, if I do make poolside is a picture of a man who is wearing a hairy, short-sleeved white wetsuit.

I do also enjoy having brown limbs, there's something vain in that idea, but it's tied in there in my thinking as appropriate to summer cycling, along with strong negative views on sleeveless tops, the place of tea in society and wearing polka dot jerseys.

Today I rode along Tamaki Drive in the early afternoon. The bays were crowded, the beaches were busy, and there were even people standing in the water. Given that yesterday I stood in the water for several minutes after dusk waiting for the tractor to return to haul the vessel that I was hanging onto out, I can vouch that the water is still nippy. I think they were a trifle optimistic, or were engaging in an act of self-sterilisation. Yesterday, I was only knee deep, I wouldn't want it any higher, and the thought of voluntarily letting water of that temperature caress my nether regions makes me pucker.

However, Spring did yield a pleasant surprise, albeit a foolish one, but pleasant none the less. As I rode townward on the bus and bike lane under the shading pohutakawas I could see a figure roller-blading towards me in the buslane, she was lithe, tanned and clad in a pair of white Daisy Dukes and a string bikini top. Dressed like that, I felt my need to chastise her for rollerblading against the traffic was a touch churlish, so I let it slide. It was a lovely sunny day after all.

Dawn Serendipity

Originally I'd thought that Eastern Promises would be an appropriate title for this particular post, but given that I have neither the desire, nor urge, to imagine Serge naked and wrestling, so I have decided to avoid the obvious.

On Sunday Serge was riding home along Ridge Road when his ride was rudely assaulted by a couple of acts of mindless stupidity. The stupidity involved was two separate carloads of unthinking miscreants threw and hit him with eggs. He didn't get details of the vehicles, except that one was a pink Subaru with a rego plate ending in 8.

He did report the matter to the police, and also went looking for the vehicle to exact some appropriate rough justice.

Luckily for the idiots, a vigilant and quick thinking police officer spotted the said vehicle today after they pulled out in front of him and apprehended them. Sixteen year old idiots. I have suggested that Serge seek some summary justice, my initial suggestion was a swift kick to the happy sack. But on second thoughts I suggest something demeaning and public would be far better.

My riding on the other hand, while all solo, as been excellent, I'm loving the new Spring temperatures and have now had two rides sans arm and knee warmers. Today, as I was in Pukekohe, I decided to climb the Bombay Hills and across to Ararimu and back around as a loop. Given that yesterday I wheezed my way around the Waitaks and wanted an easy type ride, I don't know which part of climb and up I didn't understand. Add in a stiff NE wind and the climb to the top after Bombay was a picture of a man chewing wasps.

The reward was the descent of Ararimu Road and a healthy tailwind back from Drury through Paerata. Even with the atrocious seal of Burt Road and the steady drags uphill, I was moving quite quickly with the hand on my back.

Always great to ride in some different environs.

Since I was a young boy

I have an addiction. There, I said it. My addiction is a veritable personality enhancer in my case and I have lived with, and loved it, for longer than adulthood. I do know that my addiction has a dark side and that the withdrawal symptoms are not that savage, but they are enough for me to keep the tiger in my tank and avoid suffering them where possible.

My addiction is caffeine, more precisely espresso. It is the humaniser for me. I can function without it, and will, at a pinch, drink plunger coffee, but I do love the ritual, taste and routine of a couple of cups of espresso in the morning.

I found out, in a very hard way, almost two decades ago what happened if I stopped feeding my habit, and also concurrently just how horrid a VO2 max test is. I was a guinea pig for a PhD student at Otago University who was studying the effects of caffeine on perceived exhertion. The test necessitated abstinence from any form caffeine for 72 hours before the weekly tests. Within 12 hours of going cold turkey I had a pounding headache that I came to recognise, but was also aware that within minutes of finishing the test I could relieve with a double short black.

Recently my machine at home blew it's release valve, and made it no longer possible, until it was repaired, to enjoy espresso at home. Never mind the poor visitors who had to endure plunger coffee, or Satan's own brew, tea, I was most put out.

So I opened the damn thing up...

Let's just say that it wasn't full of helpful labels, and my knowledge of boilers and copper piping is slightly lacking. So, it was off to prowl the interweb and forums. I finally worked out that I had a knackered pressurestat. Hmmm, sounded good, but what did it look like and was it within my mechanical aptitude to repair. In the espresso forums, there were men who fiddled with their pressurestat daily, who discussed their microfoaming techniques, who argued the merits of different heating elements. But no photos of the damned pressurestats.

Luckily, I had acquired my machine off an expert, and a phone call to him pointed me in the right direction. This man, who is extremely practical, knows the limits of my abilities and assured me that I could fix this little issue. He told me what to look for, and then roughly what to do. I found the offending part and removed it. A quick phone call to an espresso machine repairer told me that they had the part in stock, so off I traipsed with part in hand.

Slightly superior being at said repairer took my part, even though I gave him the part number and saundered off through the racking. A minute later he was back with the shiny new one. Placed it in front of me and tried to deal with me in a bit of an off-hand manner. I looked at new part, and my old part and then pointed out that the one he had given me was 1/4" thread and that mine was 1/8" thread. His manner changed instantly and he became helpful. He applied teflon tape and fitted an thread adapter. All good, part in hand I hastened home.I was slightly cavalier in fitting the pressurestat back in, and ran out of teflon tape after a wrap, but thought I should be okay. I fitted the pressurestat and fired the machine up. I worked, the blow off valve on the boiler stayed closed, the pressure came up and stayed where it should all was good. Until I peered in amongst the piping. The inadequate teflon taping of mine, due to haste and a bit of rip, shit and bust, was insufficient and the thread was weeping water under pressure. So turn machine off, go and buy more teflon tape.

Arrive home, unscrew pressurestat, burn hand a little on hot copper, retape, screw back in. Fire machine up, feeling quite excited this time. All is as it should be, then peer back in to check my thread work...DOH! The adapter that the chap at the part acquisition place had fitted wasn't completely tight, and was weeping, so machine off, no care for burnt digits now, anger dulls that sort of minor pain. Adapter off, then rethreaded and tightened that last 1/4 turn.

Fire machine up again, all it good, grind some beans and pump out a cup. Certainly not the best cup I've ever made, but it tasted like victory to me.

The last thing to make the process complete was to go and buy a kilo of happiness. My world is back to rights.