The Morning Patrol with Mastelek

And some HTFU

The seasonal summer sun was already making its presence known early. eddy & I were accelerating down Stampede Hill. A few years earlier, when I started riding again more regularly, I’d be on the brakes down hills. Now I don’t touch them. I crank as hard as I can in the top gears, addicted to the speed, no fear.

It’s like life. The more you experience something, the more comfortable you become taking risks. Push the limits. I actually look forward to the rush. The scream. The joy. The speed. The Need for Speed. Never touch the brakes.

And on eddy, in the Cradle of Humankind, that’s the perfect thing. It’s clean. It’s joy. And if that means leaning into a corner on the apex & nearly ending up in the bushes on the exit, then so be it.

As I approached the P-Ness circle I needed a pitstop. I propped eddy up against a road sign & went into the nearest clump of trees. There in the shade was a paintbrush, a beautiful indigenous flower. I had a pee while admiring my botanical companion.

After nature’s call I mounted eddy, but not before snacking on a few mulberries. They were still in season.

Going past Nirox I saw a beautiful Pamela Anderson look-alike runner. She was a blonde banger, & images of her running down the beach to rescue me filled my head. I rode straight into a pothole. eddy’s titanium wheels didn’t flinch. The seat thumped into my crotch.

I groaned. Instantly all images were removed.

Up ahead was a peloton. I cranked to join. The last guy had a shirt that said HTFU.

I levelled next to him and said hello.

“BTW,” I asked, “what does HTFU mean? Is it a company?”

“It means Harden The Fuck Up,” he replied nonchalantly.

I grinned.

I stayed with the peloton all the way to Mike’s van. In a peloton there is no time to let the mind wander. No meditation. You need to look at the road, the wheels, the cadence, the signs from the guys up front showing potholes or runners. I concentrated & cycled.

At Mike’s van I dismounted. Then came the second vision of the day, a young lass in a half-transparent white cycling top. My jaw dropped.

“Perky whites” I ordered from Mike.

“Sorry, no flat boobs.”

“Shit, just give me my normal order,” I told Mike. He pissed himself laughing.

Anyhow, we both forgot that I had to pay. But he quickly gained his composure & rapidly waved his Yoco in the air, saying, “Hey, come back!” Money talks.

The way back was less notable. There was no peloton. I dodged the boemelaars, and one notable guy who smelled as bad as the porcupines from Oakvilla. Heck, those things stank from close up. Sies! As bad as the unwashed dagga smokers. Nooit.

There was even some time for meditation. eddy I said, Megs sent me a podcast about a guy talking about the history & reasons behind financial bubbles as well as the upcoming AI one.

eddy, let loose one almighty raspberry. A long extended one to make known his feelings about some of our homo sapiens quirks.

Well, you rude old bliksem. I admonished. The thing I remember was the narrator mentioning about how an Auschwitz survivor wrote in his book how he could see another prisoner would die within seventy two hours as they visually lost the will to live.

You see eddy, we all need a purpose to survive. Something to cling to & make us live.

You are right, Mastelek. We all need to find & cling to things that provide us the nutrition for life.

I stopped at the wetland at the bottom of Stampede Hill to listen to the bird symphony. As I mounted, the peloton zoomed past. They hit Stampede Hill & I was behind them.

“eddy,” I said, “this is it. We’re going to drop them.”

I knuckled down. I levelled up to the last guy. It was that same guy with HTFU on his shirt.

“Harden the Fuck Up,” I said as I zoomed past. I could see him hit the wall right then. He was done. I dropped all of them, & as I cleared the peloton I saw two more victims 20 metres ahead.

“Time to dig deep, eddy. We need to haal uit en wys!” We cranked & worked the pedals.

Near the crest we went past them. But my lungs were burning & my body was seeking an energy boost.

As I rolled into Bidon I stopped at the kiosk counter & sank an iced Coke. I needed that spike for energy.

The speakers at the counter were blaring Elvis. Always on my mind.

“Good ride, eddy. Good ride.”

At the car a rooster was standing there crowing his head off at me.

“You know, eddy, the old cock has just reminded me that we totally forgot about doing the penis salute at the field opposite Nirox.”

“That was because you were distracted by Pamela Anderson,” said eddy.

Damn, that bicycle. I cannot pull the wool over his eyes.