gijoe1313's Blogs

Now please I ask for your forbearance and patience in regards to my musings for Monday, in hindsight, which is always perfect and wonderful, I would have done things scantly different. As those who know me, I have a predilection for being able to use any pretext, no matter how flimsy as an excuse to go ride my bike.

I am reminded of an old samurai/ronin apocryphal story where a lone samurai (I shall dispense with the ronin appellation since samurai evokes a much more epic sentiment) beds down for the night, with the forest sounds and the crackling of a small fire to keep him company (I do beg pardon, but samurai were mostly male and I am cognisant that there were a few notable exceptions, but I am focusing on this to wit) as the first strands of sun pierce the forest canopy and our noble samurai, awaking to the chorus of bird song, he has one major decision already to make (and no, dear reader, not the fact that he was resting on a pine cone, which disturbed his sleep counts as a decision to make). In which direction shall he take? He is on no official purpose, no assignation required of him to make, nor any pressing engagement to hurry to.

Our reclining, but awake samurai seizes the day by seizing the pine cone placed in the small of his back and closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, tosses it at random into the air. With a small plonk, the pine cone has returned from its brief interlude of flight and come to rest on the pine cone needle covered ground (I did mention a pine cone previously). Our young, earnest samurai, with a small snort and allowing his eyelids to creep ever so slowly up alights on the pine cone. Brown, small and pointing to a direction by its tip. It is this direction our samurai will take and the adventures that shall await him, only he, fate and destiny shall know.

So, with this analogy, I approach my journey and destinations on my travels almost equivalently so. I now come back to the seed of my blog and from that I shall branch out into my own quixotic samurai experience.

Today, I found myself in need of a new riding jacket, my old trusty and noble red camoflaged jacket has finally had it's day. Thread bare in places, gaping holes not withstanding (I still rode wearing it in that condition) the zipper finally gave up the ghost. The time and milages and experiences we had together finally meant it was to have it's permanent rest. Bug splattered, odoriferous, sun bleached and weather worn ... it was my trusty stalwart accompanying me on many mad adventures and japes. It is no more.

So, while waiting for it to be replaced, I decided to find an interim jacket - my brother's Dainese cordura jacket is superb, but far too hot for the season at the moment. I happened to be online and fired off a message to zeocen who happened to be on. To my surprise, he wished to ride along and check out for himself the offerings also (sales). So as I collected my wingman, we rode to the north of the shore and alighted at 'Treads. They have everything you wanted, as long as it was black. I was more desirous of a red colouration and decided to explore the rest of the biking shops in our greater Auckland area. Now, this is where hindsight, common sense, a mote of thinking and general wisdom should have applied. Unfortunately I was blessed with none of that. Fortunately, I am blessed with the propensity to ride anywhere, anytime for any reason (and most reasons being extremely flimsy).

Total failure. Abject poverty in succeeding. As far away from achieving like a fishmonger trying to sell fish, but oddly has only the remains of a small half eaten pilchard, gnawed on by a hungry cat left for sale. Of course being a new year, the holiday season prevailed - only those august fellows at 'Treads had their doors open for lost biking souls to wander among the racks of wares and accessories. Well, not one to waste a day, zeocen and I decided to take the long way home (this is a concept, which many know that I am keenly passionate on). Suffice to say, the day was met with a dalliance pootle along the roads leading to Maraetai, crowds of vacationers lapping up the sand and sea and sun cancer speckled the foreshore towards Clevedon. The leisurely pace did not frustrate since it gave us ample opportunity to view the surrounding countryside in greater detail. As most know, bikers tend to gravitate towards a pace that precludes any detailed examination of scenery unless one wishes to be part of it. No fear of that score! The drizzle of cars like a chain gang of crippled ants marched their way out and into the area. Our lovely scooter pace was interrupted by a cessation of intervening obstacles and we leapt out into the environs of Takanini, where by the grace of biking gods we were whole and intact, still supporting breath in life and limb. It is a well known fact that we were riding murderous mayhem machines of anarchy and have shortened our lives considerably by finagling our way with them.

For those who know zeocen, this ride was a feat of magnificence. He is known as the the Great Pumpkin and the Pumpkinator due to his incredible superhero power of suddenly disappearing on a ride to head lemming like back to his home. There is hope for the lad yet, he shall surprise many in the future when he finally breaks free of the burden of trying not to fill his tank twice on a ride! But I am not being uncharitable, he rides his own ride the way he damn well feels like! (to paraphase him)

So, in summary (I guess I should apologise dear reader, if I had mentioned you could have forgone the previous paragraphs to skip straight to this one, you would have garnered the nub of my recollecton for this day quickly!) I rode over to the Shore, visited many places after that which were shut and finally trundled off home behind holiday traffic to see a lovely view of Kiwis at play. Original reason failed, but being a biker? Totally achieved. Well done to zeocen for braving the dangers of the open road and using his Hornet! As for me, I feel a possible trip to the 'Tron to satisfy my curiosity of a certain hunchbacked character from Notre Dame with offerings of apparel!

Once again, I thank you dear reader, you have achieved a zen like state akin to the young samurai by coming to the end of this eclectic tale by your humble sternographer of random biking experiences.

Domo Arigato Gozaimasu.
gijoe1313