Managed to cycle to and from work from Monday to Friday last week AND still drag my sorry arse off to a party Saturday night (looking much more glamourous than my daily commuter sojourns).

The magpies were out in force. Day 1 saw me attacked at a park in Tarragindi. Really persistent sucker. That SAME day I also got attacked at South Bank. That was disconcerting given it’s hardly tree heaven. Day 2 I decided to hurtle through the Tarragindi Park. Got attacked again and, this time, did my community service announcement to a lady with stroller and a man with stroller that went ‘Magpie!’ They didn’t change directions which annoyed me a bit given I had an old friend challenging me this week in regards to how humans should be able to protect their young (by shooting magpies) in the same way as magpies protect their young. So I though the pram people should’ve done a u-turn. Prevention is better than a/cure or b/a dead magpie.

Day 3 I noticed a ‘Danger! Attacking magpie’ sign – or it says something like that – I’m always going too fast to read it. In the process of sprinting through the park to try and avoid an attack, I came out unscathed through another park to almost run over a massive bearded dragon who was sunning himself on a rickety bridge. Managed to swerve to miss poor Mister Lizard then slowed down around another corner only to be attacked by a different magpie that had decided to rear his ugly head! Ay ay ay!

I really ought to get some cable ties, but check out this video …

Magpies aside, this week I also realised the joy of having an e-office. I was able to jump on my bike to visit a prospective client in West End no troubles at all. No wasting time waiting for taxis or public transport and, even if I had access to a car, I didn’t have to worry about finding a park. It really is a very cool way to get around the city. I hope the City Cycle people do convince more people to make a good go of that style of commute. I also managed to take a couple of media calls on the way to work. Although there’s no hands-free like a car, unlike a car, you can easily pull over and – instead of just taking the call and following up later – you can actually stop and do the business then and there. Media’s happy because they don’t have to wait. Very cool stuff.

I had a few giggles with men (or about men) last week as well. I think it could very well be that I have this conversation over and over quite a few times in the next year or so. I will call the practice IMOHs. Intimidating Men on Hills. Unbeknownst to me, one morning I was minding my own business riding up a hill and – as it turned out – a super dooper hard core cyclist in lycra was trying to overtake me. He managed to do this going down the hill instead. We both stopped at a crossing:

“That’s an impressive machine,” he said.

“Hehe yup. But you’re still faster than me,” I said.

“Maybe, but I could barely pass you on that hill,” he said.

“Yeah it’s pretty cool,” I said.

In the evening, a similar thing happened. I was half way up Beaudesert Road and trundled over to the other side of the road. I saw a cyclist going up the hill, but figured I could beat him so snuck in front. And gave it my best shot. I cycled my butt up the hill so there was absolutely no way he could overtake. He caught up with me (impressively close behind) at the lights:

“Ahhhh. I knew it must’ve been electric,” he said.

“Haha yeah it’s a bit intimidating hey? But you are still faster than me,” I said.

“You were flying up that hill,” he said.

“Yeah it’s pretty cool!” I said.

I feel so sorry for the men on hills who I intimidate so I’ve decided to counteract their loss of ego with my shamelessly flirty ‘But you’re still faster than me!’. I can’t overtake downhill and the hard core cyclists eventually do overtake, but I do like having a bit of fun overtaking a non-hard-core looking male cyclist on a hill. Poor poppets. Little do they realise that I actually make an extra effort to either pass them or make sure they don’t catch up (and I’m buggered by the whole ordeal). IMOH is my own little game. Oh – and it’s not as fun with girls. They’re generally easier to overtake and don’t seem to be at ALL intimidated by me racing past them. A male’s ego is much more fun to fuck with.

I did bond with a girl at South Bank Parklands one night last week when we were both locked in by ‘free light show’ families. There is no more dangerous a beast than a family who never frequents South Bank deciding that they own the riverfront footpath. There was even one old dude who said ‘Does she really have to ding the bell at this time of night?’

I DING MY BELL SO YOUR CHILD DOESN’T RUN INTO MY BIKE WHILE CYCLING 5KM AN HOUR YOU NINNY!!!

There is actually a catch cry I wish I could wear on my shirt:

** I don’t ding my bell as a command for you to move out of my way. I ding my bell as a command for you to NOT to move at all! **

Monday to Friday on the bike. I did it!! And loved every crazy magpie-anxiety-inducing bit of it.