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If you can’t give good advice then give none!

There is no doubt that cyclists, especially those who ride with others, or who ride in garishly coloured Lycra, or who ride bicycles more expensive than a white 1991 Holden Commodore, are not the most liked road users in (insert name of Australian city here). Not a day appears to pass without some poor cyclist(s) being targeted for verbal abuse, thrown objects or vehicular intimidation by the drivers of cars, trucks and even buses.

The reporting on this by the media, often including comments about the cyclists which add nothing to the issue and do more to fan the anti-cyclist fervour, is less than impartial and does nothing to promote tolerance of ALL road users (by both motorists and cyclists) and certainly has little impact on promoting safer road use.

Such mundane facets of life are left to the individual cyclist and, increasingly, state and territory cycling associations, national lobby groups and independent organisations. The promotion of cycling for many such groups is a fine balancing act with them seeking ways to work harmoniously together to achieve their common goal. There always will be differences of opinion in how to approach tasks but with most the desire to seek the best outcome for everyone overrides the desire to marginalise motorists whilst making the most noise in the narcissistic quest to get more followers. (And woe betide the followers of at least two particular groups for they are not allowed to express any opinions different to that dictated by the relevant group’s pontificating F√ľhrer or they will be blocked from commenting further).

The involvement of an individual, a member of their family or a friend in an incident where that person is placed at risk creates in many a sense of confusion as to what to do next. Do they report that person to police? Do they report them to their employer if they can be identified as driving a company vehicle? Or do they report them on social media for the benefit of ridicule by the aggrieved’s wider circle of friends so leading to a suggestion they, perhaps take the bull by the horns and confront the individual at fault or their employer, in person, at the workplace?

The first has benefits if that person is seeking a degree of application of law, i.e. a verbal warning, written warning or punitive action by police. There is no doubt there are some police who would rather watch paint dry than do police work and, because they are human too, there will be some that have no love or respect for cyclists. But if a member of the public wishes to make an allegation of crime then police are obliged to make some form of formal note (written or entered into the relevant online database) detailing the allegation and any advice given or action taken. If the police to which it was reported do nothing the complainant is within their rights to seek further advice from that person’s supervisor. In such circumstances it is refreshing to see the speed of action generated by the involvement of a more senior officer. Newton must have another law of motion to explain this as the degree of action is directly proportional to the rank of the supervisor involved and potential disciplinary trouble the errant officer could find them-self in.

The second course of action, contacting the employer of the driver concerned, has limited benefits. These are dependent on whether the person seeking redress is content with an employer dealing with the matter in-house thereby having little control over whether the employee is admonished or given a pat on the back for good driving. Such action carries greater risks in that the company concerned may be openly hostile to criticism of its staff, whether from cyclists or other persons.

The third option, at least in the short term, often can satisfy the primeval desire for instant gratification. Exposing through the various forms of social media the perceived wrong doings of drivers brings with it the support of family and friends and that warm, fuzzy feeling of having the moral high ground. Adding a YouTube video of an incident together with the registration number and any identification details reaches a much wider audience and before you know it a sense of euphoria, bettered only by a good single malt, washes over you. Many friends will suggest contacting police and in the early stages that still is an option.

The advice of many of the cycling advocacy groups is to take option #1 and not to be fobbed off by an individual officer’s apathy; remain respectful and firm.

Deciding to contact the individual or a company in person places the aggrieved person at higher risk; it is human nature to be defensive when confronted. It all depends on whether the cyclist is prepared for a confrontation to turn nasty and whether they want to risk being assaulted or have property damaged.

So it comes with a modicum of surprise to see that one noisy cycling advocate has apparently advised the family of yet another target for anti-cyclist abuse to visit the company office of the errant driver and make a complaint.

The company representative spoken to stated the driver would be reprimanded and a note placed on her file. This may be the desired outcome of many (assuming that is the company took the action indicated) but the big question is whether it is enough of a deterrent in today’s environment of willfully targeting and intimidating vulnerable road users?

In effect, wouldn’t a visit by police prove more of a deterrent and so send the relevant message to others? And isn’t such a course of action worth pursuing further?

Noting to see here (comment censored)

You’ve got to admire the tool behind a certain, self-important, cycling advocacy group hell-bent on making cycling safer in Australia.

He posts some whinge about police inaction over someone driving on the footpath (and then whinges that the driver isn’t hung, drawn and quartered (and if still alive not ticketed for breathing oxygen).

Yet, when people point out certain flaws in his bullshit…oops (sorry ūüėŹ)…argument he deletes their comments and stops them from commenting further; I consider this a badge of honour and I know it is worn by others apart from me ūüėä.

And then he has the temerity to complain about other advocacy groups, such as national and state cycling bodies as well as rational individuals whether they cycle or drive, resorting to behaviour tantamount to online stalking in at least one case. Maybe that is why those respected cycling bodies wish nothing to do with him.

Maybe if those who support him knew of the damage his bipolar outbursts are causing they would think twice…

Admission of guilt…

I have an admission to make.

I’m not proud of it (making the admission) but for the sake of my fellow riders I feel it is time to come clean.

I am a doper. A big fat doper.

I regret to announce since I returned to competitive cycling in 2008 I have regularly consumed performance enhancing substances. You see I have been addicted to these substances for many years, sometimes going clean for weeks, but since getting back into cycling I have found it increasingly difficult to not dope (although that may also be down to being the father of two squabbling red-headed boys) even though I knew it was wrong and could see me ostracised by my many friends in the cycling community.

In the early stages of my return, my inspiration coming from watching Stuart O’Grady win Paris-Roubaix 2007, I had that overall feel good factor knowing the chances of me being found out were minute. This was compounded as I shed kilos enabling me to climb hills previously deemed by me to be Alp-like and increased my very ordinary average speed to a slightly less ordinary average speed.

But it was after I discovered Strava that I could actually measure how much my doping was helping my performance. The ability to see my segment times get faster, especially going downhill (until Strava stopped us measuring that) and to measure my performance against my fellow club riders on weekend bunch rides or weekday commutes and River Loops, was almost as much a boost as the euphoria I felt as the gear coursed through my veins.

In fact the more I doped, especially the night before a ride, the more awesome I became. Often I would tell myself as much as I looked in the mirror when cleaning my teeth before bed.

That’s what drinking single malt whisky will do to you…

Hey…Jonathan Brown…buy your own damn cycling jersey!

Back on 24 October 2012 I had the temerity to question the Safe Cycling Australia campaign (via Dave Sharp’s¬†Facebook) to get his and SCA Facebook followers to stump up $$ for the “Jonathon Brown Fund (Seeing as big JB is apparently hard to see when riding his bike, we’re going to get him into a new SCA cycling kit. Please help)”.

A metre really does matter…especially if you aren’t wearing one of these!

My stance was why should us followers donate towards the $500 target so a bloke who earns heaps more than us can get a free cycling jersey?

Now, don’t get me wrong – even though I barrack for St Kilda – I’m sorry he got hit by a car. Truly, I am. But there are likely to be many more cyclists out there that have been on the receiving end of some poor driving and who would spend many more hours in the saddle than ol’ JB (and therefore provide more scope for free advertising for SCA). And I bet they don’t earn the moolah he does!

I received some robust argument against my stance from the SCA “CEO”, Dave Sharp, and being in a democracy that is what I would expect. So imagine my surprise (just now) when checking stuff I missed on FB (since I was overseas) and found a post from SCA: “Please try not to run this down mate. BCC are in Bq’s pocket so the option is closed to us…(edited).

I appreciate all Dave has been doing to raise the issue of motorists not giving sufficient space to cyclists when passing at normal speeds (or higher) ‚Äď that Venturi effect is a PITA! ‚Äď but stand by my comments, and so am surprised to see Dave/SCA have censored my comments critical of his/their stance on this issue, comments I hasten to add were neither crude, vulgar or defamatory. So much for freedom of speech…

However, I also feel vindicated in that the campaign to get Browny a SCA jersey has not been well supported. One solitary donation of $20 ain‚Äôt going to buy him much more than a zip. Maybe he can use it to curb his on-field sledging of opponents when AFL season 2013 starts in March…

Justice denied…

Is it not enough that cyclists are apparently treated with contempt on the roads but have to hope and pray that justice prevails when matters in which they are a victim, by virtue of their cycling, go before a court?

Every time we clip-in and head out for a training ride, to simply get some exercise or just to catch the sunrise we are cognisant of the risks of injury riding alongside cars, buses and trucks. But, in the scheme of things, those risks are small, especially given the greater risk is from copping an earful of abuse.

I have been on the receiving end of verbal and physical abuse when riding more times than I can recall, usually just because I am riding a bike or wearing Lycra (which seems to cause more angst in the motoring public if comments in The Courier Mail are anything to go by). From sledging to a frozen coke to the head to a punch in the kidneys from a passenger leaning of the car, I have had it all.

But I have never been put in the position where I had absolutely no control in avoiding being hit by a driver too stupid to be behind the wheel of a car.

Unfortunately, Jorge Alvarado was.  Twenty-seven years old and a pro-cyclist in a new team on the US circuit he had everything to look forward to.

Except death.

The sad story of his death, over two years ago, and the lack of justice served last week in San Bernardino county, California, can be found at the blog BikingInLA. ¬†Sadly reminiscent of the July 2005 accident that took Amy Gillett¬†and¬†severely¬†injured a number of the Australian¬†women’s cycling team, it seems the only people worldwide who don’t seem to understand are those foolish enough to street race on public roads and the judiciary that hear their pleas for mercy.

Sadly this level of justice is not restricted to other countries.  The death of Ian Humphrey has shown miscarriages occur here as well.

Jorge Alvarado (and Amy Gillett and Ian Humphrey)…RIP.

Jorge Alvarado

Amy Gillett

Ian Humphrey

Nobody is perfect!

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not perfect. ¬†No, it’s true! ¬†(But please don’t tell my wife and destroy her perception). ¬†I swear too much and have bad habits too¬†numerous¬†to mention but none of them, now I’m middle-aged, include driving or riding in a manner that is likely to cause danger to others or myself.

My commute to work is about 28km of a few rolling hills and one nasty one towards the end, with both pedestrian crossing and traffic intersection lights on the ascent and, in Spring, a particularly aggressive magpie. ¬†But the first part of the journey isn’t too bad. ¬†There have been a few occasions where cars and trucks have come too close for comfort but none like there was this morning.

The incident which increased the heart rate above 135bpm at about 6.50am yesterday occurred on a roundabout at Petrie (ignore the date/time stamp on the recording).  Travelling south in Beeville Road the road widens from one lane plus a parking lane to two lanes (with no parking lane), the left most of which is signed for traffic to exit on Dayboro Road towards Strathpine.  The right lane is for traffic going straight ahead into a housing sub-division or right on Dayboro Road towards Youngs Crossing Road intersection or past there to Dayboro.  Approaching the roundabout Beeville Road bends slightly to the right and as it widens to two lanes I checked back and saw a silver four wheel drive a short distance back, still climbing the hill.  I signalled my intent to turn right and Рfor reasons of safety Рpositioned myself in the left lane whilst continuing to signal right with an outstretched arm letting traffic on the roundabout pass in front.  I then moved onto the chevrons to the left of the edge line and continued to ride towards Dayboro Road still with my right arm signalling my intended course.  So, considering I had signalled heaps more than many other cyclists tend to do I was a bit shocked to find the silver four wheel drive, a Mitsubishi Pajero Queensland registration 692ITY drive straight in front of me into the Petrie-on-Pine estate.  But as he/she had signalled their intent (note flashing indicator) to turn into this road then their wanton disregard for other traffic can be forgiven.  Apparently.  But as my name is not Jesus I decline to forgive and so you shall have your 15 minutes of fame.

Some forty minutes later, and still marvelling at my good fortune of almost meeting the courteous Pajero driver, my disappointment in the attitudes of some Brisbane road users continued. ¬†On Old Northern Road/South Pine Road at Everton Park, just after the intersection with Dargie Street, the traffic starts to back up to a standstill. ¬†For some unknown reason drivers are unable to position their cars on the road to allow cyclists to pass safely on the left, so many cyclists, myself included, pick the safest option which is to ride between the two lines of traffic (see, I told you I wasn’t perfect!) until the space on the left increases . ¬†Unfortunately, just after the intersection with Stafford Road the entire scenario is replicated on the approach to where South Pine Road becomes Wardell Street. ¬†This is a long, straight stretch with an appalling road surface and camber on the left of the southbound lanes. ¬†The road passes Mt Maria College and so is in a school zone. ¬†Now traffic is so heavy here that speeding is not an issue but right outside the main entrance to the school is a pedestrian crossing controlled by traffic lights. ¬†So you would think that when riding along through stopped cars and trucks, which are stopped because the lights were RED, that you would err on the side of caution and stop too or at least slow to a crawl pending their change to green. ¬†But, no! ¬†Apparently if you are a cyclist then that ridiculous rule shouldn’t apply to you. ¬†So a big round of applause to Mr “Lend Lease” for doing the wrong thing at a red light and giving Brisbane drivers more anti-cyclist ammunition. ¬†And a dollar to the swear jar for me for calling him a fuckwit.

But it didn’t end there. ¬†A bit further on¬†Mr “Lend Lease”, like me, took an exit to a back street next to the Enoggera train station. ¬†Due to a blind corner at the bottom of the off-ramp the intersection is controlled by a stop sign. ¬†The big question for users of this intersection during the morning rush hour is whether there is a police officer on the other side, just out of sight, but in possession of a video camera filming the evidence before he issues the $300 fine. ¬†Lucky for¬†Mr “Lend Lease” there wasn’t since he (and the driver following) made no attempt to stop.

I eventually caught up with¬†Mr “Lend Lease” when he stopped for the lights at the Samford Road / Enoggera Road intersection (this one is a bit busier and so perhaps he didn’t feel so brave). ¬†I told him he was doing some wonderful things to enhance the reputation of Brisbane cyclists in his disobedience of the red light and the stop sign and called him a tool (no more money for the swear jar!). ¬†I must have hit a nerve because he reacted and told me in no uncertain terms to worry about myself.

And their lies the root of the problem because I do worry about myself when riding, especially during rush hour. ¬†All the time. ¬†I worry that some cranky motorist who has seen other cyclists ignore the road rules will give me less room because, well, I must be a road-rule flouting cyclist like¬†Mr “Lend Lease”. ¬†I worry that some cyclist-hating driver will report his sighting of the behaviour of those¬†Mr “Lend Lease” types and give fuel to¬†the anti-cyclist vitriol published ad nauseum in the¬†Courier Mail. ¬†I worry that my wife and kids will one day receive a visit from a workmate with the news that I won’t be home for dinner. ¬†Ever. ¬†But I also worry that one day I might be the one that has to deliver similar news to the family of cyclists like Mr “Lend Lease”.

P.S.  Unfortunately there appears to be an issue in the uploading of videos 2 & 4 in that the sound is out of synch to the files held on my hard drive.

P.P.S. ¬†If you are a manager from Lend Lease (offices at Waterfront Place in Brisbane) and you recognise this fool as one of your employees I most strongly recommend you “educate” him in setting ¬†the right example when riding on the road. ¬†Alternatively you could recommend he doesn’t provide such negative advertising to your brand.

How close is too close?

Last Saturday I completed the usual club ride followed by coffee and calories at CBD North Lakes (purveyors of the most excellent DiBella Coffee).  The weather was perfect (once the sun came up and put some warmth into the morning) and for once I had visions of getting through the 80km without suffering the disdain of those on four or more wheels for those of us choosing two.  I should learn not to have visions.

Riding back home (why am I always one of the last to leave?) I was approaching a roundabout, riding on or just to the left of the lane marker on Anzac Avenue, Kallangur, when I became aware of a truck approaching from behind. ¬†Now, I was riding at about 30-32kph and would find it easier to negotiate the roundabout close to that speed, much close than the truck would. ¬†So what does the dickhead truck driver do? ¬†Ease¬†off the gas and allow me, who is ahead of him, to get through the roundabout into a position where it would be easy for him to overtake on the straight road following the roundabout? ¬†No! ¬†This…

 

About 500m later I caught up with the truck waiting at the lights on the intersection with Duffield Road. ¬†I rode past and as the lights changed wondered whether the truckie would turn off somewhere or pass me a bit further on. ¬†I should have known. ¬†Another 500m later he passed me again. ¬†Just as close as before…

 

Which just goes to prove if you are a truckie driving B-Double not only do you not need a big dick, you probably don’t have one. ¬†Unless it is on your head.

How’s the serenity?

Last Saturday I went out for the usual club ride with other members of the Dutton Cycles Racing and Recreation Club (very soon to be renamed “Moreton Bay Cycling Club”). ¬†The route is not always the same but, thanks to Strava, always fun to see if we can beat our own PBs or others on the various sprint or climb segments uploaded to the site.

The ride last Saturday was one of the most frequently ridden, leaving North Lakes and riding via Petrie, Strathpine, Albany Creek and Zillmere out to Shorncliffe before finishing off around the Redcliffe peninsula and the jelly-legged sprint up Mango Hill for coffee and cake.

There is always much to see¬†en-route: other bunches (some of whom don’t know how to acknowledge other cyclists); bogan drivers (who only know how to abuse cyclists); the rear wheels of others in the bunch as we rotate through; and of course fantastic views such as the one below.

Sandgate foreshore panorama (images taken at southern end of Flinders Parade on an iPhone and joined using AutoStitch)

Although not the halfway point of the ride ¬†(in fact it is over half way) it is the regular stop for us and many other bunches. ¬†Some riders will use the 5-10 minute break to catch their breath, others to talk incessantly. ¬†Most however will use it to snack on whatever they packed for the ride yet forgot to eat until then,¬†get some more water or get rid of other “water”. ¬†Which brings me to the reason for this post…

At the southern end of Flinders Parade in Sandgate there is an amenities block.  Toilets and washbasins are provided and there is a small gazebo with benches and tables adjoining an electric BBQ.  All these are maintained by Brisbane City Council.  Those exercising along the foreshore make good use of the facilities which, given their frequency of use, are usually found in good condition.

However, riding in to the rest stop last Saturday it was clear something was amiss. ¬†A gentle S/SW breeze was picking up and until I was passing the BBQ I was unaware of what was actually “cooking”. ¬†Looking towards the gazebo I saw a bloke with some bags, one of which obviously contained food. ¬†The glum look on his face told me he was not impressed at something but I didn’t for one second think it would be down to the BBQ. ¬†But a split second later, as the vapour of piss emanated from the BBQ, I realised that some feral bogan, too lazy to walk the ten metres to the toilets, had used the BBQ plate as a urinal. ¬†What had not evaporated in the early hours before the arrival of Glum Bloke and the hordes of cyclists stopping or just riding past must have collected in the trap below the plate and was now being warmed by the generated heat on the plate.

The stench was overpowering, so much so it was the unspoken encouragement for many of us to cut short our break or even forego it altogether. ¬†The below image I sourced from my helmet camera. ¬†Note the wisps of urine steam rising off the hot plate and Glum Bloke sitting on the bench in the shadows. ¬†There goes the serenity…

The stench of piss on a BBQ is enough to taint even the most perfect morning for a ride

To give the reader the full experience I have made the image “scratch and sniff” enabled.

Use your imagination.

You’re welcome!

Smile…I have a camera for my commute!

The comments by Shane Warne in mid-January that inflamed cyclists around Australia, and which drew comment on numerous blogs, first and foremost by Wade Wallace’s CyclingTips, apparently inspired a number of Warnie’s bogan Twitter followers to new depths of feral behaviour the moment they are passing cyclists in their Bogandore sedans (many¬†resplendent¬†with their red or green ‘P-plates’).

Reports from some cities in the days following the¬†controversy¬†highlighted intimidation of cyclists by car loads of youths, many slapping their hands on the sides of the cars and repeatedly shouting “Warnie”. ¬†From personal experience most acts of intimidation only occur on lone cyclists, those targeting us generally being too gutless to pick on more than one cyclist. ¬†And having been abused and had stuff thrown at me on numerous occasions, and more recently assaulted five minutes from home by a passenger of a white ute being driven by a grub from Burpengary – a grub who was at the time and still is banned from driving until mid-2014 – I decided it was time to invest in a little insurance. ¬†So I bought a camera.

I picked this one as the manual states it records for 2.5hours which is more than enough time for my commute with a bit to spare. ¬†In fact I could do the commute and a River Loop of Brisbane and still have a few minutes spare. ¬†I used it on the way into work a couple of days ago and although I got buzzed a couple of times it was nothing too heavy and there was no “Warnie” abuse. ¬†But on the way home, five minutes after leaving the office, I got buzzed by a truck. ¬†I just love the way he cuts in after passing then drives on top of the line at the edge of the road adjoining the bus stop emphasising his ownership of the road.

A short distance further on I witnessed the best driving through a red traffic signal I have seen for a couple of years.  The intersection with Enoggera Road and Ashgrove Road at Newmarket is always busy with vehicles, cyclists and pedestrians and yet at 4.36pm Mr Pajero Driver makes no attempt to brake let alone stop as the lights turn amber.  At this stage he is not in camera, the lights turning amber with the camera almost 56m away.  When he is in camera and 15m away the lights turn red and he continues driving through the intersection.  As I remark on the video, he is a fucking knob!

Ride safe people and watch out for fuckwits driving cars and trucks…

Join the queue…

Well…HE came.¬† HE saw.¬† HE got the same treatment many of us mad cyclists in Queensland put up with ride in, ride out.¬† And, as usual, the bogan element responded to the article published about it in The Courier Mail (I refuse, on principle, to add to that rag‚Äôs coffers by linking the article here).

The visit of Australia’s first Grand Tour winner, Cadel Evans, visited Brisbane briefly last weekend and departed on Monday.  Unbeknownst to most of his Brisbane cycling fans he took part in a family fun ride from South Bank to the Sirromet winery and then had the temerity to complain about the attitudes of drivers in the region towards cyclists.  I don’t disagree that there are a number of cyclists who flout the road rules, the same as there being a number of drivers who behave in an equally deplorable manner or a number of thieves who steal to ensure retailers add an appropriate mark-up on goods to compensate them for stock loss.  The fact is they are here to stay and the rest of us just have to put up with them and the negative attitudes that are generated towards the those of us who try to set a better example.  I know we shouldn’t but, really, hands up who thinks attitudes are going to change in those who drive white utes, covered in stickers (see end note) just because others criticise their behaviour?  However, maybe if Cuddles had not engaged in such a selective ride with only a few of his fans as opposed to a majority, the unnecessarily nasty drivers might have decided discretion was the better part of valour (as we know they are gutless when faced with superior numbers) and kept their unsavoury opinions to themselves (until the next cycling article is published in The Courier Mail).

The main purpose of Cadel’s visit was to sign copies of his new book The Long Road To Paris.  Essentially a pictorial record of his quest for the Tour de France yellow jersey, with photographs by renowned cycling photographer Graham Watson, it is Evans second biography, complementing Close To Flying which was co-written with Rob Arnold from Ride Cycling Review.  Strangely though, The Long Road To Paris is much easier to read.

The Long Road To Paris

Evans’ appearance at Dymocks bookstore at Albert Street in the city was well-publicised to the Brisbane cycling community with flyers available at the Brisbane BMW Ride For Life Challenge, next to the coffee outlet and across the way from where Evans former Lotto team mate Robbie McEwen was signing copies of his biography One Way Road.  Word spread even further with notification posted on various cycling forums and blogs and big posters in the windows at Dymocks.

So it was no surprise, at a little after 10am, to find a queue almost 200m long, four deep in places, snaking its way into the Queen Street Mall and forcing pedestrians to detour around much to their bemusement.  What was a surprise though was the lack of abuse from pedestrians when answers were given as to why we were queuing.  There were no derogatory comments about cyclists blocking their way, or snide comments about those of us ignorant enough to flout red lights.  And there was only one person I saw dressed in Lycra.  I didn’t even get any abuse when I returned to work after two hours standing in the sun.

What was almost poetic for those of us who still revel in what is arguably the greatest sporting achievement by an Australian, and who looked up whilst in the Queen Street Mall, was seeing the queue strategically pass Evans’ Tour de France ride number, 141, emblazoned on the facade of 141 Queen Street Mall, an obvious but silent homage to the 2011 Australian Cyclist of the Year.

The queue for Cadel passes his special number. Poetic placement!

The signing commenced at 10.30am and it wasn’t long before the future generation of Australian cycling came to be anointed by kang-ga-ri lama.  And this is possibly what caused the queue to move oh-so-slowly.  The signing was due to finish at midday so myself and those waiting in close proximity to me, not ten metres from the door, were none too happy to be advised at 11.57am by a Dymocks’ employee we might miss out.  All that waiting and expense for a fleeting glimpse of the champion many of us had devoted last July to.  I feared he might do the bolt and could reasonably foresee such behaviour would be likely to cause a public nuisance so was all set to snap on the cuffs when I made it to the front of the queue.

The determined resolve to finish a marathon signing session

Unlike his previous visit in 2009 Cadel was not in the mood for a song.  But then he wasn’t accompanied by his wife Chiara Passerini so there was no one there to serenade.

Nevertheless he was in the same cheerful mood he had been since Sunday 24 July 2011 and signed the three copies of The Long Road To Paris I had brought along, acknowledging the congratulations of myself and others waiting for our books to be signed as well as others passing on the adjacent escalators.

I left the store just after midday and looked up Albert Street towards the Queen Street Mall.¬† There would be many who had waited who would miss out and wished they had joined the queue much earlier…


End note: I drive a white ute covered in stickers

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