I am an ABBA Roadie
Cranking on memories of the seventies & the experience of weggooi sonblomme
I’ve always been a roadie at heart, a term that, in cycling circles, describes those of us who swear by the sleek lines of a road bike over the rugged grit of a mountain bike. There’s something meditative about cranking away on tarred roads, the steady rhythm of pedals turning like a mantra that clears the mind. On a mountain bike, if you let your thoughts wander the same way, you’re liable to moer into a tree or end up in a sloot. But on the road? Ah, that’s where the magic happens. You can ponder life’s puzzles, soak in the sweeping views, or even carry on a conversation with the rider beside you without fearing for your life. The asphalt becomes your canvas, and the miles melt away as you experience equal parts therapy and adventure. Yes, I am a roadie, through and through.
On a crisp morning in the Magliesberg, I saddled up on eddy, my trusty yellow Alu Mega road bike, & released him onto the tar like a thoroughbred at the start of the July. The day started with a spectacle that nearly stole the show from the ride itself: half a dozen hot air balloons drifting lazily across the sky, their vibrant envelopes glowing against the dawn. The only sound breaking the silence was the occasional whoosh of their gas burners, a gentle roar that punctuated the peace. For a fleeting moment, I envied those passengers up there, suspended in quiet awe. Could anything top gliding through the air like that? Well, almost, until I remembered the pure joy of Eddy’s wheels humming beneath me.
As we pedaled on, the ride took an unexpected turn into auditory bliss. One fellow cyclist had a Bluetooth speaker strapped to his bike, blasting ABBA’s “Take a Chance on Me.” There I was, humming along to that infectious seventies rhythm, the lyrics weaving through my thoughts like an old friend. The kilometers rolled away effortlessly, the music turning the open road into my personal cathedral. ABBA provided the hymns, the wind the choir, and each pedal stroke a prayer of gratitude. It was perfection, simple, unadulterated joy on two wheels.
But this cycle held deeper layers, ones that intertwined the thrill of the ride with reflections on loss and legacy. Along the roadside, I spotted clusters of “weggooi sonblomme”, those wild sunflowers that sprout unbidden, blooming defiantly next to the tar. Just the day before, I’d virtually attended a memorial service for Tewie, a school classmate who’d tragically passed after hitting a pothole in a motor accident. The dominee’s sermon in the Grey Reunie Hall lingered in my mind, drawing a poignant parallel from those very flowers. He spoke of how they flourish for only about three weeks, a brief burst of yellow brilliance against the mundane. Yet, their story doesn’t end there. Seeds scatter to the earth, lying dormant until the next season, when they germinate anew, spreading life beyond their own fleeting existence.
It was a metaphor for human life, he said, including Tewie’s. We bloom for a short time, our petals vibrant but temporary. But the seeds we plant in others? Those endure. A teacher’s fleeting word of encouragement might reshape a student’s path forever. A friend’s kindness could ripple through generations. Tewie, with his infectious energy and quiet wisdom, had sown countless seeds in the lives he touched, acts of generosity, moments of laughter, lessons in resilience that now live on in us, his students, friends and family.
As the ride neared its end, we approached a wetland fringed with reeds, alive with the cacophony of red bishops and mousebirds darting about in a symphony of chirps and flutters. While the others attacked the final hills, zooming past in a blur of determination, I pulled over. I stopped, breathed in the earthy scent of the marsh, let the noise wash over me like a benediction. It was my moment of prayer, a quiet communion with the world. Those sunflowers by the road, once mere roadside weeds, now symbolized something profound. I’ll never view them the same again, they’re reminders of brevity, beauty, and the enduring impact we leave behind, even after our own bloom fades.
