Cycling is like life. Cycling with no goal is meaningless. What meaning is there cycling in circles? Or living aimlessly? Meaning comes from direction and destination. Join me in my life's journey on a mountain bike :)

Blogging since 2003. Thank you for reading :))

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Indicator error, human error

Apr distance: 473 km

To Canberra Road, 30 km. As usual, I'm home too late for the Wed night ride gang, and cycle solo. I head for the sports school, but can't remember where it is. I pedal furiously, but my speedometer sometimes says "0 km/h". Since the RPM is wrong, speed is wrong and distance is wrong. But the forward motion is unmistakable: working so hard, making slow progress. As I dismount at the end of the ride, I'm almost the victim of a high speed crash. On the pavement. By another cyclist, who cares not for his own kind.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Nice doggies

To Choa Chu Kang, 60 km. There are two rides starting at 8 am. I skip them all to catch up on sleep after more than a full day of work yesterday. I hit the road alone, then give a newbie triathlete a good run before going off the beaten track. I pass 3-4 dogs; they don't molest me. They don't even bark. At a traffic light, a dog comes up to me. "Don't bite me, OK?" I plead. It opens its mouth and licks my leg. I believe its owner is the bikeshop owner who recognised that I've removed the crank he'd sold me. "It's been thousands of km," I say to soothe his feelings.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Stealing time, back in time

In Ang Mo Kio, 16 km. It's 8.30 pm. There's no one left in the office to see me steal away from the office, drained. I've got to ride to regain life and sanity. I cycle back in time to where I used to live, where I rode in shock over a little wriggly snake, where a mad orange dog bit me, where I struggled uphill on a single-speed, fell on my face as my front wheel disappeared where a drain cover used to be, and rolled downhill after crashing into a pile of roadside debris. Now, as an adult with a better-equipped bike, my Cateye cuts through the darkness. A shadow moves; it's a cat. All is quiet and peaceful. For a while, the storm in my heart quietens.
Tech note I wear my first pair of bike shoes, with new cleats. They are now my training shoes.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Grinding up Genting

Fri 15 - Sat 16 Apr:
To Genting Highlands, Pahang, Malaysia, 105 km. Looks like shit. Wait a minute, it IS shit. Bird shit on my waterbottle, on my bicycle, on the rooftop car rack, as we whizz from Singapore to Kuala Lumpur. It's Saturday morning rush hour as we do a "warm up" ride at 37-40 km/h. It's ok for the roadies but as the sole mountain biker ... HHL too has become a roadie and is ahead with the rest of them on her two-week old Orbea Vitesse. I fare better as we cycle up 26 km towards the 1,800 m peak. She overtakes me, I stick to her wheel then go up a 10-degree gradient while she waits. All of us DNF (did not finish), perhaps 6 km from the top, as we run out of time. What a shame. I'd hoped to break my "highest altitude" personal record. Going downhill, my speedometer fails. 0 km/h, it reads. More like 50 km/h. I'm the last man as the girls turned back earlier while the other guys led the group of 5. It's a sickening ride back to Singapore.

Sunday, April 10, 2005

Follow that train!

To Sengkang, 32 km. I can't remember the way to the sports school, so I wander to Sengkang and follow the train tracks one round before stuffing myself with prata and heading home. My bum hurts; follicularitis. Either my bum is getting old, or my saddle is, or both.
Tech note My saddle is 11,870 km old, which is more meaningful than saying I bought it in Nov 03. Talk about space-time continuum ... sometimes it makes sense to measure space (or distance) rather than time.

Saturday, April 09, 2005

Chock a bloc

To Kangkar Pulai, Johore, Malaysia, 162 km. So much happens in one ride. The Kulai ride is cancelled because of "rain", but I see some gals on their way to Sedili Besar. They ask me to join them, but I don't have my teddy bear for an overnight ride. So I cycle solo to explore the unknown at Kangkar Pulai and Universiti Technologi Malaysia. I see a motorbike under a bus, but the motorcyclist seems OK. Further on, two cars almost crash behind me; if it'd happened, they'd have taken me down. Or that pothole I barely miss at high speed. Or that furball running at full tilt, barking at me. Back at the Singapore immigration, an officer touches me (in both senses of the word) by asking me to join the shorter car queue. Then the people who cancel the Kulai ride do a local ride and I lead them on a sightseeing tour (and learn from a racing veteran turned bikeshop man how to fix V-brakes). The tour's grand finale: feet soaking at the Seletar hot springs.
Photo courtesy of RebelXH

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Unfazed at Fraser

Sat 2-Sun 3 Apr:

To Bukit Fraser, Selangor, Malaysia, 68 km. There's silence, but for the sound of insects chirping, birds singing and my lungs labouring the 29 km up the 1,524m hill. We travel about 400 km by car from Singapore to Kuala Lumpur for the night and cycle up Fraser's Hill the next day. It's a long way to go to risk being whacked by a bus; I can have that in Singapore. Except that in Singapore, buses try to whack cyclists even on straight broad roads, compared to that bus overtaking me on a winding narrow road. Still, I'm cool, literally. Going downhill, I keep ahead of traffic as I corner at 38 km/h. W sheds some skin and blood; he has another scare later too. Mauritian R and N seem happy enough. I've reason to be happy too, besides enjoying the hill scenery and cool air. Having snapped the scenery, I keep my camera in my pouch on my bicycle, which goes on the bike rack atop the car. Which proceeds to get drenched in the pouring rain. "Oh God, if you keep my camera dry, I'll sing praises to you," I pray. Time to learn singing; not a drop splashes the camera.