I am a fool

The forecast for the entire week is rain. Rain, rain, rain. It is a good week to be swimming, as getting extra wet won't matter much. The weather is so wet and depressing, even the ducks can't be bothered taking off. They just mooch around in the puddles in the park across the road, casting an eye at the leaden sky every now and then before going back to splashing in the mud.

I was sensible on Monday - I got a lift to work in a nice, warm, dry car. My car. A big, fat, fuck-off 4WD. Something that is perfect for fording the potholed streets that pass for main roads in this part of the country. I can see the city skyline out my office window. I am right next to the beating heart of this great metropolis, and driving to work is like negotiating Kakadu in the wet season. Modern cars must have good electrics as I have yet to see someone stalled on the side of the road with a can of WD40 in one hand and their sparkplug leads in the other.

So what do I do this morning? I pull on my brand new leg warmers ($99 thank you very much), pile on a couple of layers (including a new long sleeved thermal skivvy) and pedal into work. At least there is enough daylight at 8am for me to wear my wrap around sunnies, which keep the worst of the rain out of my eyes. The problem with the new house is that it is on the flat - at the old place, I'd ride about 800m and then hit my first hill - not a very steep hill, but enough to have a sweat breaking out by the crest. From there, it was up and down a few more hills that got the blood pumping and raised the core temp. Now, it is flat, flat, flat and I am barely warmed up by the time I hit the Lilyfield Rd hill, which is a right bastard. I'm warm by the time I crest that hill - in fact my glasses are usually fogged from the sweat that starts pissing out of every pore. However, I am usually half frozen when I get to the bottom of the hill - this part of the suburb is too bloody flat. I need to detour to find some hills.

Anyway, I could have gotten a lift, but I decided to ride. What kind of fuckwit deliberately decides to cycle on a cold, pissing wet day when there is a comfy car as an option? Meatheads like me I guess. One good thing with the weather is that it keeps all the bloody prams and pedestrians indoors, which theoretically means I could let rip and belt around The Bay at top speed without fear of hitting anyone ("Constable, a cyclist hit my baby" - with a Lindy Chamberlain accent). Except for a few small problems - namely a road surface that is slick with oil and grease that has decided to rise to the surface after months of no rain, and the fact that I can't see more than about 20 yards with the rain pelting in my face.

That doesn't stop the local wogs from flying up and down the road outside my office window. Every now and then, one will come around the corner near our place, plant it, break out and go sideways a bit. I make sure I park the car away from the corner where they like to slide. God, souped up four cylinder rice burners sound pathetic when doing a wheel spin in the wet. I'm waiting for one to zoom down our road too fast, fail to stop at the T intersection at the end of the street and end up with their car parked in 6 feet of water in The Bay. That will be worth a few photos. I should take a fold up chair and a brolly and a bucket of oil and walk down to the end of the street and throw the oil in front of the first speeding rice burner that I see. Or, I could be really lazy and take one of those pump water pistols and see how much oil one can throw onto the road in 5 seconds. I should be able to do that sitting down in my comfy chair.

By the way, the leg warmers were a revelation. I have always dreaded them, thinking that I'd look totally queer in a pair. Well, maybe I do, but I was so amazed at how warm I was, all thoughts of queerdom were banished. Face it, by the time you've pulled on the dicky looking helmet (not many people look cool in a bike helmet), the tight knicks, the tight shirt etc, you look pretty wierd already. Adding a set of tight black tights is not going to change the picture much. It would be like pushing Humpty Dumpty off the wall and then treading on what's left. He's already fucked - treading on him is not going to fuck him up much more.

The good thing about them is I did not have to repeat my "I am not a fairy" mantra when riding home tonight. I was so toasty and warm, I simply had to think, "I am not gay" a few times and that was it.