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Photo-story - Where my bike’s been


StreetCowboy

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It’s Malaysia Day, and public holiday is a euphemism for KL PUB Lunch. Sam Bennett is leading the Points Classification in the Tour de France, so The Green Man was the obvious choice for lonchtoime points.

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with food to boot!

It is a long way home from there, past St Andrews

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and I stopped off in Gravy Baby in Bangsar on the way

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It’s not such a long ride from here, but no journey is so short that you can’t stop on the way...

 

Last night I took a spin down to Eurodeli for dinner, and tried to take an arty photo of my bike through a glass.

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but I could not get the phone to focus on the bike instead of the glass; I think it may be an alcoholic.

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Did I mention that I broke a spoke on the shopping bike on a short ride as I came back into my suburb?  So I took the back wheel to a local shop, and picked it up tonight.  He refused payment, saying “Let’s see how it does.  If no problems in two weeks, you can pay me then.”  Dashed decent, I thought...

So I took the wheel home, fitted it on the bike, and set off to the pub for a bite of dinner.

Before I got to the Chinese restaurant at the end of the road - BANG! The sniper missed me, but must’ve caught the bike and blown the tyre off the rim, as well as puncturing the tube.  Or maybe the guy in the shop had nipped the tube under the bead of the tyre - the Schwalbe Marathons are hard to fit, but they’re bulletproof when it comes to punctures.

So I’ll be down at the shop again for a third time this week for some harsh remonstrations and a tube on the house. Or maybe I’ll never darken their door again.  But it’s the only shop round here open on Sundays...

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Bike shops, eh?  I’m struggling to find one that does not seem to do it’s best to avoid my custom.  If I was going to give advice to bike shops, it would go like this:
1.  Be open for cyclists.  Monday -Friday, 0900 - 1700, shut the shop and beaver away in the workshop.  Open for receiving service requests and sales after work and at the weekends.  Sell parts only 0800 - 1000 Saturday and Sunday, and receive for service 1100 -1800 Saturday and Sunday
2. Don’t rush fitting or service.  If you don’t have time to do a good job, don’t do it.  Say “you can leave the bike and it’ll be done by Monday evening, or you can take the parts home to do yourself”; no-one wants a rushed and bodged job.  
3. Stick to labelled prices. Otherwise, customers will haggle (if you offer discount) or dismiss you as a charlatan if you ask at the till a higher price than marked.  If your stock control computer says a higher price than marked, tell the customer, and accept the marked price.  A customer is worth more than one sale.
4.  Be able to cope with workload peaks; have casual labour on call (students, school kids) who can take up some of the work washing bikes and doing simple tasks - that’s where your future mechanics are going to come from
5. Stay local.  It doesn’t matter how good your service is, I’d rather be able to walk home after dropping my bike off than have to get a taxi, the airport rail link and MRT...  actually that sounds like quite an adventure...

To be fair, there is one bike shop about which I have no complaints; tyre shop, rather than bike shop.  My buddy’s rear tyre had developed an alarming bulge as we turned homeward from Kuala Selangor: “Well, let’s carry on and get as close to home before it fails - less distance to come back in the car to rescue me”. I concurred, though while our route was the most simple and obvious that it could be cycling, driving it would be an expedition to the boondocks.
The tyre held up 50 km, and as we were coming through Kubu Gaja I cried out “Bike tyre shop”
“Motorcycle tyres” my buddy dismissed.
“They had a bike hanging outside”
So we tried it.  Sure enough,they offered us a bright orange road bike tyre, which was marked “28”.  That may have been the size, it was coincidentally the price, and if it was the range, it was more than adequate.
We had less success trying to buy a bell in Klang.

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  • 2 weeks later...

To say Sunday’s ride started badly would be an understatement; it all went wrong at the beginning of the week, or even earlier, when the brewery stopped delivering Strongbow.  Cycling without cider would be like a fish without a bicycle.

 

I had a great ride planned, out through The Leper Colony, up The Monkey Road, back through Batu Arang with its 22 sites of historic interest including this mock chimney brick column in the middle of the roundabout and a green field.  But the whole way out, we were stressing about the Cider Drought; it was like The Great Kilkenny Drought of 2007 in Dubai, when there was nothing to drink but Guinness or lager on both sides of the Creek.

 

The Leper Colony, which has been given over to commercial nurseries, is a lovely gravelly ride, spoiled on a Sunday by members of the public visiting the nurseries.

 

I took a wrong turning in Kuang “Where were you going?”

”Maybe I was exploring...”

”Aye, right - I’m just going exploring in Kuang town - no-one’s ever said that ever”

“Except us, when we went up past the railway cottages to The Road To Nowhere and The Great Wall of Rawang”

”Fair point”

And by the time the conversation had ended, we were at Kuang Crossroads. Right Seoul’s take us to the dead end of The Great Wall of Rawang, which I did not offer as a choice, nor retracing our steps; straight ahead would ultimately take us to the historic township ... shophouses, a nice road, but one we had ridden a few weeks previous.  Left would get us home an hour or two quicker.

”I’m in no rush”

”Aye, you say that now, but we get to LRK 14 and there’s no draught cider in the street, then how?”

My buddy’s eyes looked like a spinning fruit machine...
As we headed back to town, the Navigational One-Armed Bandit was spinning like... like an over-used simile.

Jalan Kuala Selangor is a busier, faster, rougher road than I would like, but I volunteered we should fang it straight down the main road past Sungai Buloh, instead of our normal diverging route with its legal frailties (crossing the central reservation kerb) and the stretch of tarmac that is rougher than a leprous soi dog.  Then on to familiar back roads, down to the Damansara Puchong Highway, a struggle up to Desa Park City - renowned for its Sunday Morning Lady Joggers, and the Cider Springs of Plaza Arkadia. 
All’s well that ends well

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and Sets Of Two allowed us to head off home still sufficiently compus mentis for the rake down to and along the highway to home.  Besides, we weren’t riding on the highway, we were riding on the old Jalan Damansara, if anyone asks.

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  • 2 weeks later...

We’re back under Conditional Movement Control Order in the Khang Valley, and interstate travel is strictly prohibited; within KL inter-district restrictions were relaxed when they could not agree if the district boundaries should follow Health Districts, Police Districts, or Parliamentary Districts; my route had been planned to fall entirely in Kepong Health District, but The New Boy is from Lembah Pantai.  You’ll be pleased to know he’s back on the bike after his broken and dislocated hip, now riding flat pedals and sporting my old ballet shoes.
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I was slightly embarrassed that we had a record ten of us down at the station, in these socially distanted times.

It was a nice gentle ride, with only one wrong turning when I succumbed to well-meant advice, but we were soon back on track, and stopped for drinks at a petrol station in Kepong

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Back on the road, one group fell behind and took a safety detour; we were a bit worried - Ovalboy knows his way about, but if The New Boy had got dropped - his orthopaedic vulnerabilities pale in comparison to his navigational frailties.  So we waited at the highway toll booths, and breathed collective sighs of relief as they hove into view.  One of our first-time guests recommended the Malay mamak stalls near my apartment for breakfast (he lives in the village just behind), as our usual place is on the opposite side of the highway, in Selangor, the next state.  At the food court, they were rigorous about enforcing the “two people per small table” rule, but I didn’t take a photo of that.

We did see dozens of cyclists and joggers out and about; the last couple of times I’ve been in a bike shop I’ve thought how sad and empty they look, but that’s because since COVID, they’ve sold all their bikes and have little stock left.

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I stuck two fingers up to the CMCO and we went on a Petaling Jaya ride, over the state boundary - for me, at least.  As well as three likely sources of draught cider (not literally; although I post about The Cider Oases of Arkadia, they are in fact just pubs) Anyway, there were three pub stops en route, and we passed the Heineken brewery, which is a source of draught cider - or so we thought at the time, with its big Apple Fox sign on display...

The Federal Highway bike lane is a nice route, not just because it goes past the brewery (it also takes you past the Carlsberg Brewery in Shah Alam, which is a dry township).  
We stopped in USJ Cycles, as my buddy is in the market for a bike for his wife

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Preferably similar to this, which she has on loan just now.  The basket may be a problem, as the Trek store whence it came has closed, though the salesman is now working at USJ.

He didn’t have a suitable folding bike to sell us, though, and nor did KSH, just down the road.  It seems all the good bikes have been sold...

The roads round USJ are lovely and quiet at the weekend, even the one that is laid out like a NASCAR track - a dual carriageway that runs down to a steeply banked U-turn... if my brakes had been working better I might have stopped for a photo of that.

My buddy wanted to stop off in an aquarium to buy food for his puffer fish, but came out with nothing to show but a glum face - the second disappointment of the day, but the worst horrors were yet to come.

At Richfield Corner they welcomed us back like long lost brothers

“Welcome back!  Long time no see... we don’t have any draught cider...”

My plan had been to head on from there to Brussels Beer Cafe, which sometimes has Blackthorn but ... but ... I was not confident, and quailed at the thought of further disappointment; to suffer another such blow on a parched and empty stomach would surely have done for us.  Luckily, Yi Lo is only half the distance and has never let us down - had never let us down, until Sunday.

”What to do?”

”We could struggle on, with a thirst like Lawrence of Arabia, to ...”

”Aye, right, fighting adversity until another setback leaves us more like Captain Oates”

”Let’s continue this conversation over their bottles here until we come up with a plan”

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

I found a shop offering suitable folding bikes

 

 

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so my buddy's wife is now a proud cyclist.  It's coming up to Christmas "... road bike with you" and not far away from Chinese New Year "... aero bike" and birthdays "... downhill mountain bike; time trial bike; BMX Stunt Bike".  So much for saving for a pension,   His own GBP 500 bike has done him six years, a change of pedals, recent changes of cassette, cables and a bottom bracket awaiting suitable tool.

 

I was out with the New Boy to celebrate the Birthday of the Prophet Mohammed; he's (EDIT: The New Boy, not the Prophet Mohammed - he doesn't come out with us) still slow up the hills - I don't know if he is struggling, taking it easy to avoid strain, or saving himself for the greater horrors ahead, as he lives at the top of a particularly daunting hill. 

 

I was particularly happy he had missed Jalan D/A 11 the previous Sunday.  The Google Streetview car had abandoned the ride earlier, and I would have acquiesced to turning back when we found the road flooded, but my buddy had already put his foot in the water, and was surveying a path through.  I did not dare cycling through, afraid of slippy stones under tyre, and hopped through, but we both got through with only one wet foot.  The New Boy would have borne that with stoic fortitude and a stiff upper lip, but I don't think that there was anything on this morning's ride that delighted him as much as the tale of what he had avoided.  

 

SC

Edited by StreetCowboy
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I’d warned The New Boy today would be a hilly ride, and he’d sent apologies.  Young D who’d lied about his age to race with the crumblies had some story about converting his bike to a coffee grinder, which was only made credible by the noises it had been making last week.

 

The Golf Course hill does not seem as daunting as it once did, not Science Centre Hill.  We then turned past the Sultan’s back entrance and down and round to the front gates of the National Palace.

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I’d never been up Mayor Flats before, and today, with the cool drizzle, it was hoaching with cyclists

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The view over KL is nice, though only slightly better than the road below 

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That’s not actually the top...

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and that was where I discovered Strava had not been recording since the National Palace.  Only young M (who had chundered in the back of the bloke’s pick up half way up the wall) joined me at the top, so I’ll try and take an extract of his data.

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Big G had a puncture in Bukit Tunku near where Sids used to be, and as we came back through Bukit Damansara everyone set off to their diverse homes. I had still planned a Bangsar detour via Tivoli Villas (almost) and en route, I checked Bar Roca was open.  It was still open on the way home

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Edited by StreetCowboy
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I had other things to do this morning, so I delegated this morning’s ride to Ovalboy, who took the lads on a pleasant ride through KL city.

In the afternoon, I went back to the Mayor’s place, as Strava had not recorded it last week.

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it was much less busy at lunch time - there were no other cyclists.  I went up The Wall on the way home, for good measure.  And then set a personal best on the climb up to the tunnel, which you’ve seen pictures of before.  So I got about the same aggregate elevation as the lads this morning in half the distance, and best of all, Sids was open when I finished.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Sunday saw us on the poster drop for Pubcycle 2020 - the COVID edition.  We’ll have an SOP for virtual participation, and in the spirit of Covid, it will be random, arbitrary, and harshly but differentially enforced.

I’d intended to drop my bike off at Joo Ngan to bleed the brakes, and a service as well, but my plans started to unravel when I discovered the car wash at work was closed - I don’t like to take the bike into the shop with six weeks’ clart on it in case it’s contagious.

I’d have been grumpy paying for a wash since it started to tip down stair rods as I was changing to leave the office, and the bike would have been filthy in any case when I got to the shop.  I’d arranged to meet Dr K in Eurodeli after I’d dropped the bike off, so I had no choice but to cycle in the rain, but I couldn’t face walking in the rain over to Eurodeli, so I rode straight there.  
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The rain had eased off, but the roads were still wet; at least there was no flooding. And four pints and some lamb stew saw the roads dry up for a pleasant ride home bar that the brakes still need bled.

Edited by StreetCowboy
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  • 3 weeks later...

So I'd gone back the following day to put the bike into Joo Ngan Son for some brake bleeding, and you can imagine my distress when his son phoned me up to explain there was a problem.  A root cause, if you like.  One of which he was at a loss for rectification.

 

There was hydraulic fluid leaking from the reservoir case.   He had no solution to offer bar either warranty claim (of which I was sceptical - my experience of warranty claims is that the supplier says - "sure, we can replace that under warranty, but  you need to fill in a ream of paperwork, provide original copies of receipts, service history, parentage and birth certificates and educational certificates back to the Union of the Crowns, and we'll need to keep your bike for investigation until you've forgotten what it looks like".  Or I could buy a new shifter.  As part of a pair.

 

I consulted the internet, my buddy, the entrails of a chicken, the moon and the sun and the stars above, the tides of the sea and the blowing of the breeze, and came to the conclusion that there was a burst seal between the hydraulic reservoir and an air reservoir, and the fluid was leaking out a bleed hole in the air reservoir.  An easily sorted problem requiring only to order the replacement seal and find a tiny torx wrench; if such a replacement seal was available in the market.

 

Along with the birds in the trees, the grass in the breeze, I also asked at several bike shops, none of whom could offer any suggestions that were either helpful or credibly sincere.  I might try going to KSH in the knowledge that I could be on the shopping bike for some time.

 

Anyway, my dicky brake is still working, I may be losing fluid slowly, so I've bought the kit to refill it, and now I need some Shimano brake fluid, or as they call it round here, 'a quart of the red mineral stuff'.  I might fit my second bottle carrier.   

 

You may be pleased to hear that the New Boy has recovered his 1970s racer from the proprietor of my nearest bike shop which has gone out of business, who may be on the run from creditors, taxmen and gangsters.

 

SC

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In these COVID times, we are looking at probably the biggest ever Pubcycle turnout.  So we’ll split into waves - squadra, if you like, of an MCO compliant maximum ten riders.  To help the other peleta find their way, I rode each stage in turn, to save as a Strava route.  I don’t know how you share Routes, and I hope someone knows how to follow one.

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I’d skipped Saturday’s ride to record the routes for Pubcycle 2020 - it may be too late to join but you can still do your but for the orphanage by sending me money - but when I saw the route Ovalboy had planned I was sorely tempted.  But my in good faith commitment saw me off on my own, like a cloud on a summer’s day.

 

Looking at Strava, they had had the nicer ride, and we followed them this morning. Taman Desa is a lovely suburb, with a few blocks of pubs (we didn’t stop) then through the tiny motorbike underpass to Seputeh, and subsequently the Chinese graveyard, past the toddy shop that serves the Primary section of the Alice Smith international school

FE427396-25D2-418E-B9BE-4E24C1448F01.thumb.jpeg.5c628ea7f5264674e7e75143efbcac29.jpegand from there you are minutes from Jalan Imbi, Times Square and the bright lights of Bukit Bintang.  The traffic was post-apocalyptically quiet, and even the monorail was running slower than us; a pity, because it was one of the new four-car trains, and I would have appreciated a second look.

we passed a Young Lad on the Federal Highway who tucked in behind.  He didn’t follow us up the LDP to Richfield Corner, where they’ve never let us down bar last time, and this time. You can imagine my relief at not having to turn to the Young Lad and explain “They’ve got no draught cider- what to do?  We’ll have to struggle on to Yi Lo...”

My buddy suggested that for Pubcycle 2020 we fang it to Richfield Corner fast as we can to get there when they are still closed, but I took the more pragmatic view:

”Draught; bottle can. Can also can”

Edited by StreetCowboy
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The Sultan of Selangor had kindly granted me a day off to celebrate his birthday, so I went for a gentle ride round some of the hills and backroads near my apartment.9AB4628F-EF49-4AA7-8AA5-FDA6B74337B7.jpeg.15f84918c7db694c323e3bff1e30d741.jpegThis little hill starts off with a bridge over the highway that I must have driven under 3,000 times, but never been over.  There is a water tank at the top.  It’s a steep little hill, and straight, but I was happy to come down slowly with the brakes firmly on.

 

006F1FC3-7DF8-4C1C-AABB-C41DCA6B460B.jpeg.81376ca148910ef0d6fe99b61f7fd8e0.jpegThis is the top of one of my favourite local hills, where I’ve seen cattle grazing in the past.  It’s only a few km from home, and I can see it from my window.  That’s not the highest road on the hill

FEE5382C-4975-4F77-9EA1-AA53D13D88AF.jpeg.02203508102f66c3e27e9f719c54d108.jpegBut I’ve still never been up there.

 

From there it’s a short ride past the office - looking down past the car park entrance

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and up towards Empire Damansara and the Damansara Performing Arts Centre.

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Over the hill, down past IKEA, through Bandar Utama housing area, to the British International School on Bukit Utama

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This is another steep little hill, and there is a kids’ football centre at the top,

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through the trees. You get a good view over Bandar Utama as well.
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On my way back through Bandar Utama Forest Park - it’s not so much a forest park as the left over bit after laying out a golf course, but it is still used as a batching plant for local construction

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As I went past the barrier, one of the guys held up his hand. “Good morning!” I cried, and waved as I cycled past.  I don’t think that’s what he meant. “Sir ... Excuse me, sir...”.  On my way back out he was careful to get a good photo of me.  Other than the concrete batching plant, and a power sub-station, and unauthorised access to the golf course, the forest park was a bit of a disappointment.
 

From there it was back on to more familiar roads

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past Centrepoint

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where Boskos used to have sets of three pints of cider for 70 ringgit or something.    I didn’t stop, as it was not yet lunchtime, and I am not sure if they have cider back yet after the drought.

 

Edited by StreetCowboy
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You will be delighted to know that Pubcycle 2020 passed safely and uneventfully. Tomson and his dad never showed up, due to his father’s spinal impairment, and with the other last minute cancellations, we were able to proceed as one group, when DT finally arrived.  The rescue driver never got lost, nor did the New Boy, and fortunately he’d  booked his wife to take him home from the final pub stop.

The landlord at The Green Man was exceptionally generous (he’s an old buddy of The Rescue Driver) and the patrons excelled themselves, raising >RM 1700 over the six pubs.  


K, who has joined us every year since the first ride in 2014, refused to let COVID restrictions stop him from taking part, and cycled 50 km alongside us in his own route in Taiwan.  I don’t think he enjoyed the prolonged stop in The Green Man as much as we did.

 

We’re still collecting sponsorship money, so you can still contribute. It’s been a hard year for the Shelter, and it’s great to be able to help; and anyway, any excuse for a pub ride, eh?

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Edited by StreetCowboy
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Sunday saw us out on our 20-20-20 ride - 20 km at 20 kph on 20” wheels. A joined us on his Brompton “... but I’ve only got 16” wheels”

”Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, but if you want to stop after 16 km you’ll have a long walk to the pub”

He struggled towards the end of the ride, but we got to the pub with a

moving average better than 21 kph. And best of all, the White Van was waiting to welcome us.

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Edited by StreetCowboy
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You'll have heard me often enough praising the courtesy and consideration of the car drivers around KL, but not this weekend.  On Saturday we were out in Kampung Pandan, on a reasonably quiet two lanes each direction road, and someone sped past me too close. "OI !" and when he cut in across my buddies in front I'd have added a "<deleted>!" if I'd had breathAt first, I put it down to lack of situational awareness, assuming he had been planning on passing the taxi ahead on the inside, and had been surprised to find out that there were five cyclists, not one.  Except he then slowed down and didn't pass the taxi. 

 

Then Ovalboy took us on a diversion through quiet back streets, and found the steepest - the only - hill in that part of KL.  IN our naivety we followed him meekly, only to find out that it was not on the road home in any case.  On the bright side, it was downhill on the way back.  There's nothing worse than taking a wrong turning downhill.

 

I'd planned a longer ride on Sunday.  I'd thought about going up Route 1 then back down LATAR highway and Guthrie Highway motorcycle lane, but the LATAR Operator has been quite explicit that cyclists should not use their highway, to the extent of putting up signs that say as much.  We'd have been less exposed to LATAR highway traffic if we had gone that way, as it would have been left turns all the way, and we'd have never crossed their traffic, but as it was, we carried on to Rawang, cutting across the diverging highway traffic.  Its a long descent down into Rawang, and the road is gently inclined downward as you come into the town, so we were managing a steady 30 km through the suburbs.  Someone passed us, and turned into the Tesco car park.  The guy following him could have turned behind us instead, and ... "OI !".  You'll be pleased to know my back brake is working just fine, and as the back wheel locked up and started to slide sideways I thought I was going to have to put my foot down, then my shoulder, but he cleared the turn-off into Tescos before I would have hit him.  If my reactions had been quicker I'd have shat myself.

 

It was a hot day, and the worst climbs were yet to come, and by the time we got back to KL we were ready for the pub but we'd promised A we would pick him up for the final 30 km.  The ride into KL along the Never-ending River of Life is a lovely ride, and we were glad to repay the hospitality at the Green Man by returning as paying customers a couple of weeks after Pubcycle 2020.  I'd not anticipated getting there as late as we did, and it was 5 pm by the time that we left, which meant little chance of riding home from Bar Roca in daylight.   To be fair, A prefers to stick his Brompton in a taxi for the final leg home, and my buddy's wife (thinking she could wangle a ride to TTDI) had offered to meet us "Aye, fine, but bring the car.  We're in Bar Roca", so I cycled home shortly after it got dark.  Shortly as in 7 km, not shortly as in fading twilight...

 

You'll not be surprised to learn I did not have time to get a photo of me sliding sideways in fear of certain disaster on the outskirts of Rawang.  My buddy broke a spoke coming over Templer Park hill - I suppose I could've taken a photo of the broken spoke, but I'm afraid you're going to have to use your imagination (or recollection) for that, as well.

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Yesterday saw us on a two cemeteries ride, through PJ and KL.  To be honest, it was an uneventful ride, and I was worried I might look a bit pervy to the point of the police getting called if I had stopped for a photo of the bridesmaids at Tín Hau temple.  I hope your imaginations are up to the task.

 

Today’s 65 km ride via Kota Kemuning was cut short by heavy rain this morning, and further truncated because Bar Roca was closed following a COVID case. So we stopped at Sid’s on the hill, and could reasonably claim to be on our way home...

 

Edited by StreetCowboy
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I live in fear of cycling over a lizard or snake.  From what I’ve seen on the dinner table, their ribs are thinner than a chicken, and they would really suffer.
75732223-A645-45F2-9F44-938FFF4422B6.jpeg.e9ba4a05b5c68d57bd2980eb218d4cce.jpeg

 Luckily, to date they have always cleared out the way sharply

 

Edited by StreetCowboy
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Today’s ride took us out through the leper  colony, past Kuang station to the cross-roads where you can turn right, for the road that no longer goes to Rawang, or straight to Kundang.  We turned left, back towards Sungai Buloh.  Ovalboy’s directional recollection is better than mine, and he saw us right (strictly, left) at the next cross road.

From there, it’s an easy road home, if you don’t turn off too early and miss the informal motorbike cut to Valencia; we could have stayed on the backroads to the end of the highway, but we joined the main road earlier to dodge through Sri Damansara and another crowd-funded shortcut.  I was dropped off the back by this time, and turned off for the muddy motorbike cut, while the other guys had carried on to the footbridge - footplank, to be more precise.  The motorbike cut is steep, with mud and rocks, and I had to put my foot down. 
It was a long 57 km, and I was glad to get home

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We're back under MCO now, but fortunately, still allowed to cycle - both for leisure and purpose.
In addition, my job has been deemed economically essential, so I can make a good start on this year's target of cycling to work 32 times.  It does give me the hardship that we work till 1830, and the restaurants close for takeaway (no dine in allowed) at 1930, but that encourages a healthy work - life balance.
We are not allowed to travel out of district for shopping or other reasons, but for cycling, that is not specifically mentioned, so I am sticking to the sole restrictions of cycling alone (I'm not happy about that - joggers are allowed out in pairs, but cyclists, who may be more prone to mishap, must ride alone with no-one to assist, seek help or return with a rescue car) and we have to remain within 10 km of home - I am interpreting that as 10 km as the crow flies, which could take me to central KL, or the leper colony of Sungai Buloh, or the south side of PJ.

Today, I was limited in my ambitions, and restricted myself to a Samosa Run to Brickfields.  You may know that TPC has been flexing their muscles, and closed the golf course road, citing it as a private road (I believe that it is a public right of way or bridleway, albeit maybe not a public road) so I went out through the Penchala Tunnel (uphill all the way, and not as pleasant as the opposite return route, but I did get two beeps of encouragement, one from a motorcyclist who raised his arm in support as he passed (it could have been Big G, I've never seen his motorbike) and a police car, who turned on their siren beeper momentarily - I'd have expected to see them waiting for me as I came out for  bit of persecution; maybe they did - there was a white car waiting just after the toll gates, but if that was the case they must have felt pretty sheepish if they'd noticed that I took the motorcycle lane around the toll gates and joined the main carriageway 100 m further down.

 

My navigational skills consistently failed me, and my route was far from the shortest or safest or most pleasant available, but still within acceptable limits on every count.  It would have been nicer anti-clockwise rather than clockwise.

 

I'm struggling to plan my January Gran Fondo 100 km ride with these restrictions - 100 km on my own will be tedious, and within 10 km of home will require some effort to keep it interesting.

 

SC

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On Sunday I rode some of the small hills around the area, and on the way back after Sri Hartamas traffic lights, there was a police road block.  They didn't stop me, and waved me through behind their checkpoint; I don't know where they thought I was going, but I am going to assume that they knew I was rejoining the highway to cycle through the tunnel, and treat that as endorsement that we are allowed to cycle on that highway.   

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