Friday, 15 February 2013

Prologue Part 1: PLEASE SELECT THE MANIFESTATION OF YOUR MID LIFE CRISIS...


Tricky thing picking a Mid Life crisis and not to be entered into lightly. Choose unwisely  and you risk ridicule - wedging your gut into a set of outrageously colourful one piece leathers and wobbling off up the Pacific Highway on a motorbike worth more than your first three cars over which you have no control for example - financial ruin - ‘Hey! Climbing Mt Everest seems like a totally cool and manly thing to do’- or even death -Hey! Continuing to climb Mt Everest with that giant storm approaching and the embolism and the hallucinations and the...F**k my foot just froze off…...

An ongoing emotional attachment to both my (beautiful) wife and (beautifuller) child effectively rules out an affair, the development of a serious drug/alcohol/golf habit or embarking on a 3 year solo journey of discovery through the Australian outback, Amazon Rainforest or Cartel Infested Streets of Jaurez.

I did get a banjo for my 40th birthday, but apart from the subsequent purchase of a so far unread ‘Learn to Play the Banjo’ book (with accompanying CD) and a tuner that allows me to be totally shit at playing the banjo in tune, the music option also eludes me.

I can however ride a bike.

Good to know facts about cycling vis a vis a Mid Life Crisis.

1.    Bikes don’t cost all that much (compared to a Porsche say, or a new set of Carbon Doohicky Super Whack Golf Clubs) whilst still allowing for a certain level of absurdity required of a Mid Life Crisis.
2.    There is ample opportunity for ridiculous attire.
3.    The pursuit of cycling and all its attendant paraphernalia can be justified to your beloved on the grounds of physical wellbeing (until your new interest leads you to begin throwing yourself down rocky hillsides or off jumps or other stupid stuff...).
4.    You will catch no diseases off a bicycle nor will it become pregnant to you requiring an elaborate dance of deception between it and your family involving secret penthouses, trust funds, hilariously wacky Christmas time slapstick mix ups and an inconvenient deathbed visit from your illegitimate (bicycle) offspring.  

So. Decision made.

NEXT UP: JUST LIKE RIDING A BIKE.

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