Its been a while, thanks for waiting.

Cycling Expedition!

Well, not quite. Was on an impulse cycle around the neighbourhood today; didn't expect much, just hoping for a workout. Was supposed to cycle to the city for a test run but was lazy so this short trip was in compensation.

Didn't tire till the end of the course, averaging 25-30km/h weaving through the throng of people around Jurong Park. Then I came to the stop point where I last turned around due to the lack of light, pressing ahead I went onto an abandoned road and on till I came to a loop with an abandoned jetty at the side.

Abandoned jetty! The excitement in me grew as I approached with great expectations... To no avail. It was all fenced up and no exploration could be done. The spindly concrete piers and the forlorn steps leading to the open ground (the wooden flooring long since rotted through or removed) looked cool though, so it was frustrating to see and not being able to touch; but I managed to frighten a foreign worker nearby. It must have been my brand new Birkenstocks.

Moving on, I took a wrong turn and ended up along a semi abandoned stretch of road, connecting the former glories of the Japanese/Chinese Garden, several eateries and a turtle(!) farm. Now only the turtle farm and a few scattered eateries remain, the rest reverting to grassland with the odd patch of asphalt and decaying fences holding the ground. I cycled into a eatery/KTV outlet, still shorn in its gaudy 1970's heritage, imagining the time where only the well heeled (and amply endowed) parked inside, the rest having to fight for the lesser spaces outside. Now only the fading neon lights (Chivas 12 years, XO Martin) sigh at the glories long past.

I moved on, bypassing more empty lots, dreaming of lost places and imagining a better time. No trouble, I had the entire road to myself, not a car was present while I was on the road selfishly hogging two lanes to myself. I passed by an old eatery (excellent zi char, really must push my parents to return there for another meal) and a quaint old public toilet, straight from the pages of a 1970s' photo album. DO NOT TAKE WATER FROM THIS OUTLET, says the fading blue and white sign. The combined urinals, still proudly bearing their manufacturers' logos (so and so from Manchester, England, a relic from our colonial linkage) Chrome tapes polished by a million hands. Those awful squat toilets, hell to pay on the knees, with the water closets reaching to the ceiling. As I looked back, I could see my father at my age, walking out from the toilet, shaking the water from his hands onto the floor like how I did, climbing onto his motorbike and riding away. Nothing has changed from the scenery, except ourselves.

I wonder how long more can I enjoy this memory, what with the redevelopment of Jurong Lake park to a Hotel and lifestyle district. Hotels in Industrial Jurong! Mr Goh Keng Swee must be ever so proud at his little redeveloped swamp land.

I pedal on. A red structure caught my eye, a rope pyramid! And beside it, a skateboard park! Currently used by a toddler trying to scramble up the sides of the curve. Those skaters using the overhyped scape youth park would be better served using these facilities closer to home, honing up those skills before showing off in the city. But onto the Rope Pyramid! Scrambling up the sides like a little kid before lying on the ropes to enjoy the view and the breeze, what fun. Looking at my bicycle from above, all shiny in black and chrome (and sandy/muddy tires) makes me realise that yes, it has been far too long away from the saddle, away from the excitement, away from the thrill that used to drive me.

I miss my first real bicycle, a 100000kg steel Martin bike. With its cheesy SHIMANO logo (but with the cheapest components in place), no doubt remade into cars and tableware after I abandoned it for a life of computer games. No doubt I have spent the last few months repenting, cleaning up bike and bike parts from other similar abandoned bicycles. Their owners leaving them from another love, and I, picking up the pieces, restoring them to their former glories.

Then it was time to go back, whizzing on the asphalt again, past joggers, past other cyclists, past couples. jiggle through cars, up the ramp and down again. My legs are aching, my back strained, my heart is racing and I think:

So when's the next time?

Ride on.