UnbAlanced

Published on March 7th, 2016 | by Al

PEDAGOGS SUSPECTED

It was time for a stress relief ride. West, I thought, dirt roads. I took the ‘Strom. North of the Great Western Highway, west of Lithgow. Places have great names out there past Curly Dick Road at Meadow Flat.

I stopped for petrol before Richmond. “And where are YOU going today?” the woman behind the counter asked me.

“Mount Horrible”, I told her.

“Why?” she asked.

“To steal the Orb of Sandor.”

“Oh”, she said, and gave me my change. “Good luck!” she called as I walked out.

I rode the Bells Line of Road and the highway, and turned north at Meadow Flat. Out of Sunny Corner, I took the Dark Corner road, and then turned on to the dirt at Cupits Lane. A sign said watch out for everything, including bad roads, log trucks and animals. There are people who don’t?

Cupits Lane looked like a logging track. It became Eskdale Road, which didn’t. On a downhill section covered in stones the size of strawberries interspersed with stones the size of oranges, I thought maybe I should have told someone where I was going. I was glad of the knobby tyres. I wondered what would happen if I hit one of those big stones and fell off and impaled myself on the sharp branches sticking out from one of the fallen trees. I bet there’s no mobile reception. And I didn’t have any water.

About midday, I saw a lone big kangaroo hopping through the trees ten metres off the road. They’re supposed to be asleep during the day.

I pressed the “Cities” button on the GPS, and it said Limekilns was nineteen kilometres away. I kept working the road. It would have been better on a proper dirt bike, with less weight and a bigger front wheel. I figured I could handle it getting a bit worse if I dropped the tyre pressures, but I didn’t have to.

I turned left at the Mount Horrible Road to get to Limekilns and buy some water.

I was in open farmland when the GPS said Limekilns was 0.1 km ahead. I thought there had to be a cathedral for it to be a city. Limekilns didn’t even have a building.

I turned around and went back to the Mount Horrible Road. The altimeter in the GPS said I was well over 900m above sea level. A couple of times it went over 1,000m. I guess one of those was Mount Horrible. There was no sign.

It’s not a bad dirt road. It’s curvy and quite scenic in places. It ends on the Dark Corner Road: more dirt. I rode back to the highway and headed for home.

I stopped at the same service station at Richmond and got some fuel and water.

“Did you get the orb?” the woman behind the counter asked.

I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. “In the topcase.”

Yokel. As if Sandor would leave the orb in the middle of nowhere.

I got home an hour later. The girl-child was watching some J-drama on Netflix. “Hi dad”, she said. “Where have you been?”

“Mount Horrible”, I said.

“How was it?”

“Horrible.”

“Well duh.”

She is an unsympathetic and sarcastic child.

I don’t know where she gets it from. I suspect her teachers.

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About the Author

Al does a bit of everything, and likes hanging around with Boris, because there are generally motorcycles and whiskey, and because hilarity generally ensues. He wastes his spare time not moderating the BIKE ME! forums, where he posts occasionally and is regarded as unfair, unbalanced and unmedicated. Shows how much THEY know.



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