I awoke this morning to a delightful blue dawn. Some what at odds to Auckland's previous string of damp weeks. I collected up the trash and with care, placed it by the kerb. My lycra was feeling sexy smooth and I had a fresh podcast on cue.
On such a still morning my mind wandered. New enduro wheels for the mountain bike? Why are the American public so interested in Donald Trump? How does the US media manage to create a pedagogy of idiocracy about democracy...
At this stage in my commute I'd crested the Hopetoun bridge and was steady rolling into a green light. I plied on the speed an powered onto the Vincent Street hill.
Next I watched as a garbage truck swung across the road and proceeded to drive the wrong way up the bus lane - My lane! It took far to long to process and my expectation was that he would U-turn, or pull over. But yet, to my dismay, he continued to charge upwards.
I grabbed those shitty calliper brakes as hard as I could. My desperate emergency stop had me slewing sideways, with one foot out and dragging. At the last minute the truck pulled out and flicked around my position. He pulled over 25m further up the street.
Despite my attempts at calm collected behaviour, I failed to collect a plate. In fact I failed to do anything other than breathe before he pulled out and drove off. At least it wasn't hard to track down the company website.
It all serves to reenforce my own sense of mortality. What if the truck hadn't swerved out? What if I'd panicked and pulled left into a parked car at 50kph. What if I'd pulled right at the same moment the truck had swerved right? It would not have ended in a pleasant manner.
Ride safe my friends. It’s a fine line between triumph and disaster.