Photo-story - Where my bike’s been

[StreetCowboy]

1 minute ago, Metropolitian said:

555555 good one.. even the 'changeover' thing, let one bike and the other takes over when the first 'fuel' runs out ????

But no, not the bike I mean.

 

Another hint: It makes noise, but not always.

My brother had a Yamaha FS1E moped back in the day; to be qualified as a moped, it had to have pedals that you could use as a motorised bicycle, rather than a motorbike, to qualify as a moped and be allowed to ride at 16.  

[Metropolitian]

17 minutes ago, StreetCowboy said:

My brother had a Yamaha FS1E moped back in the day; to be qualified as a moped, it had to have pedals that you could use as a motorised bicycle, rather than a motorbike, to qualify as a moped and be allowed to ride at 16.  

I had a few Motobecanes. One was a bike, and other two were mopeds.

Had another engine-bike, a Dutch Kapteijn Mobylette (with motobecane engine) and a England engine-bike the Raleigh Runabout.

 

Raleigh Runabout.

Exactly the same as this one:

 

At the pedal wheel there is a knob (M-V) to switch between the motor-engine and velo  , the ''change over''

 

In Netherland the difference between ''orange'' moped and ''yellow'' moped is with the speed.

Orange, not faster then 30kmh and Yellow officially 50kmh.

With ''Yellow'' you pay more tax and you need a helmet.

 

Under 50cc are mopeds (brommers) and suitable for 16+

Bigger then 50cc are motorcycles and for 18+.

 

 

I used them as bike and as moped. Whatever the location, weather and mood was 

[Metropolitian]

    

 

 

The yellow and orange was mandatory to have it at the front.

 

Now with the scooters and other style bikes that rule has changed and now distinctive at the licence plate color.

 

Yellow still yellow but orange now blue.

 

 

[StreetCowboy]

I like to sit in the pub where I can see my bike outside, for (I fondly imagine) security reasons.  As if i’m going to rush outside and catch someone leaping onto my bike and pedalling off.

 

At least, having seen them, it might save me blundering about confusedly wondering where my bike has gone, later in The evening

[Metropolitian]

1 hour ago, StreetCowboy said:

I like to sit in the pub where I can see my bike outside, for (I fondly imagine) security reasons.  As if i’m going to rush outside and catch someone leaping onto my bike and pedalling off.

 

At least, having seen them, it might save me blundering about confusedly wondering where my bike has gone, later in The evening

 

Taking the saddle to sit with you in the pub, with the speed bumps and pot holes in the street, you can recognize them the way they walk, later after the evening.

[StreetCowboy]

7 hours ago, Metropolitian said:

 

Taking the saddle to sit with you in the pub, with the speed bumps and pot holes in the street, you can recognize them the way they walk, later after the evening.

Aye, right.
And then when I wake up in the morning I won't sit bolt upright thinking "Did I leave my bike at the pub?" 
I'll know straight away - the bike is at home, the saddle in the pub.

[StreetCowboy]

I'm hoping the New Boy will let us post some scar photos, or X-rays; we went to visit him on Saturday, and he is remarkably chipper for someone who has just had some hammer-and-chisel-work applied to his femur.  He declined to join us for our Sunday off-road rampage - I think he is considering whether to switch to flat pedals, or get cleats fitted on his crutches.

 

The ride started off a bit disappointing, as I could not find the plantation road I was looking for underneath this future development road. 

But I'd been meaning to come this way anyway, although I'd been told it was blocked.  Apparently not, from the number of cyclists we saw.   This little Indian temple is, I believe,  a replacement for a traditional plantation temple; particularly since it is facing away from the road.  These temples can be a source of conflict in the future, when the developer sells off the land, and another future developer wants to clear the temple...

We carried on through this empty future development, to the new township of Elmina, where we stopped for water, and to muse at how successful a bike shop must be if they say that they are not accepting Servicing orders till July, and they can afford to be closed at mid-day on a Sunday.

We carried on, through unfamiliar roads, and my lack of a good mental map of the region paid dividends, when we found ourselves faced with a choice of DASH highway construction site, or turning back the way we'd come.  I should have taken a picture of the DASH highway; the bit we were on was at grade; I forget if it had asphalt down, but it was quite rideable.  Then down through the site offices past the plant parking, down a slightly challenging gravel road (not suitable for rear-wheel drive cars in wet weather, I would guess), and back on to the public road.  I might have chosen the next part of our route differently, if I had realised I had planned to approach this road from the far side, but we followed the road Southward as best we could, and a bit more Westward than I would have liked, and came out onto the largest and last climb of the Dragon's Back, which was made all the more bearable by missing out the preceding two climbs. 

 

If I'd looked at the road signs, we would have joined the old Jalan Sungai Buloh heading in the right direction, but nothing that a bit of hopping over the central reservation couldn't solve.  And we were back on familiar roads - in fact it felt like only a fortnight ago we'd been riding that way.

 

The New Boy doesn't really like the off-road rampages - his bikes show the muck a bit more than mine, he's clipped into his pedals, his tyres are not rugged and manly, like mine, and the dirt plays havoc with his sensitive continental mechanicals.  So we took the opportunity of his absence to go along another old gravel road, past an illegal sand-mining operation.  I think it may have been used as a construction road for the laughingly-called Airport Link railway, which goes to Sky Plaza, is slightly more than walking distance from the old airport.  Perhaps in days of old it was a more important road than it is now, since there was a concrete bridge leading to a private road that may at one time have gone to somewhere near the airport.  But its properly gated off now.  The road was in surprisingly good shape; I could not honestly say I noticed any significant deterioration since the first time that I rode it in 2015 on my mountain bike.
 

[StreetCowboy]

I thought I had posted part of this before, but could not find it; my apologies for the repetition.

A few weeks back, my foot had slipped off the pedal a coupe of times, and the final time, I thought I had picked up a large stone in my shoe.

I was wrong.

ThT was not going to be fit for the following day’s long ride.  So I raked round to the Trek showroom for replacements, but they did not have my size - maybe they only stock up once every three years.  
So I bought these podium shoes (presumably intended for when I am presenting someone with flowers)

They did not wear well, and after a few weeks are looking decidedly shabby. So I’d decided I would go searching for proper flat pedal cycling shoes. Until Trek phoned me up; “your shoes have arrived”

While I was about it, I picked up som flat pedals for The New Boy, for when he can get back on his bike.  They’re still in the box...

[StreetCowboy]

My apologies for another Sunday with no photos.

 

Today's ride was another triumph of navigation; the final road I knew was uncertain - and getting there was a bit complicated.  I almost had to cancel the ride when I put on the wrong shirt - no back pockets for the directions!  Luckily, I had time to change, and we were off... Down to the station, then winding through PJ to the Federal Highway; I mentioned "I need to remember its Sunday, not Saturday, and take it easy at the start, because we won't be finishing after 40 km".  We did stop at my buddy's mate's workshop, and I was given a quick tour of the projects underway - mostly dune buggies in various states of completion, an open-wheel racer and a saloon touring car.  A lot of work in progress...

 

Then back on the road, stopping at about km 30 for drinks, as I knew we would be heading into dry country until the motorway services on the way home... The roads were quiet, and I could get the directions out my back pocket without stopping; as it happened, some of the roads were familiar as we'd been down that way with the ex-project director en route to the toddy shop in Banting, and there was a lot of cyclists out and about enjoying the tremendous flatness.

 

"Right - down here 3.4 km"

"This is a dead end road.  I've been this way before with my mate"

"I said there was a bit of gravel, didn't I?"

Google maps actually allows two ways out at the end of this road, but ours was the shorter route.  I was slightly nervous when the entry to the road was much bigger than expected from Google streetview, although the Streetview car had not followed that road.  The satellite view showed unbroken plantation, which I knew was probably not up to date.  Not by a long way.  The whole area has been cleared.  We limbo'd under the barrier, and assured the security guards that everything was under control and there was no cause for alarm, we were just going to the show-house at the other end of site.

 

One of the security guards gave pursuit on his motorbike, telling us we could not go that way, which was not very helpful, and, judging from our progress, quite untrue.  But his pursuit was spurring us on faster than I would have liked to take that mud; it was a wide mud construction road, easily wide enough for two large trucks to pass, and the traffic was limited on a Sunday, with plenty of room for us to pick a best line on the firmest mud.  Then we can to a fork.  "Up to that crest, and see what we can see..."
We could see buildings in the distance, but it was not clear which was the better road.

"Cannot! Cannot"  The security guard complained; he had done a good job maintaining his temper while diligently following us, but now was his opportunity to shine.

"OK - this way ^\ or that way /^?"

"^\" he pointed.

 

And we were off again, he was still muttering away to himself "They don't understand" in Malay, but at least now we were on the way out.  He followed us out onto the tarmac, and as far as the last entrance back onto site.  Personally, I think he did a great job getting us safely off the site before the rain started, and although its hard to call cycling up the North - South Highway in the rain a high point, it was a lot better than getting caught in the rain in the mud, and soon had the bikes looking presentable again.  The North - South Highway has a good shoulder on it, but no motorcycle lane.  Luckily, it was a Sunday, and with the airport being almost closed, there was not much traffic, and we safely got post Jn 607, Jn 606 and off at Jn 605.  My buddy's mate lives round there, so he knew the roads, and I knew from the route plan that it was more or less straight due North home.  Pleasant, quiet, suburban roads mostly, still quite cool after the rain, until - How High Is That Viaduct?  Luckily the approach is downhill, and the traffic is slowed by people merging and diverging, so that we could almost keep pace to the foot of the viaduct, and then there is a shoulder on the viaduct itself.  Over the top, and then down to the spiral on to the Federal Highway, and you're as good as home.  Better, really, because its only 3 km to Richfield Corner, although we were slightly dismayed to discover that the cider was as expensive as Sid's, which is only 10 km further.

 

Given that we set a fastest time on the way home from KESAS Highway to the Federal Highway, and through the neighbouring suburb between pubs I think I can say the pace was pretty well managed, despite the mud in the middle, and I don't think it will be difficult to keep my promise to the security guard never to go that way again.  My legs were a bit stiff today, though.     

[StreetCowboy]

I’m planning this weekend’s rides.  Saturday morning is usually short and brisk, with the fit young lads (except for the New Boy, who is a fit old man, and Big G, who must be fit to carry all that round all day, and young A, who is younger than all the rest of us put together, and probably thinner, too)

Sunday afternoon there’s normally just two, maybe three of us, on a longer ride, with a pace to steadily build up a thirst. But I think the homeward leg of the Saturday afternoon shopping on my own must be the hardest part of the weekend, as I rarely make it all the way home in one ride.

 

Pause to admire new shoes last Saturday

and a similar view on my birthday in similar circumstances, 2018

Luckily, an early afternoon stop for refreshments usually spells an early night (maybe dyslexia is my biggest problem) and I’m good to go on the Sunday at a reasonable time.  1000 even allows a brisk breakfast before the arduous day ahead.

[damascase]

My 95 km early Sunday morning ride, here between Mae Chan and Mae Salong, north of Chiang Rai. Dark and cloudy but no rain....

[StreetCowboy]

Sunday’s ride saw me set some PWs - Personal Worsts, even on Jalan Sungai Buloh - Pub, where physical weariness, mental exhaustion and a prevailing headwind conspired to stifle the normal enthusiasm that drives me on the last 12 km; and it didn’t even look like it might rain, either.

 

The day had started off no worse than could be expected; we were both down at the station at the earlier time of 0930, me with my directions, and two contingencies, in my back pocket; oh if only we’d taken the contingencies!

 

The lady at the Toll Booth onto the North South Highway came running out “Cannot ! Go back!”, which would have been suicide; the junction we’d just come through was scarey at the best of times, but strongly not recommended in the reverse direction, against the flow of traffic.

 

From there, it was an easy few km on the left verge of the highway, and the junction after the toll booths to the Rawang - Batu Arang road has been remodelled in the ten years since I worked in Sungai Cho.  I might have mentioned that before, last time we rode up that part of the North South Highway, mutatis mutandis seven for ten.

 

Jalan Batu Arang is a rough and busy road, but it clears a little after you get past Aeon hyper market.  Then through a suburb that was older and rougher than I expected, to the first of our gravel roads. A new development, we decided to explore a little, rather than turning back to approach from another direction. If only I’d remembered the morbidity of cats as we succumbed to curiosity...

Some hithering and thithering took us to the back of an impenetrable industrial estate bounded by thicket and ditch

”Even if we could get in, the far side’s fenced”

”Nobody bothers locking the gates on empty industrial units”

Luckily, prudence prevailed over perseverance, and we turned back.

 

Sadly, we had not learnt our lesson, and some pleasant construction gravel roads saw us passing fish farms

and then finding the bridge over the river; in his enthusiasm, my buddy surged ahead. It was a rickety old bridge, and the flakey surfacing and fishermen led us to walk across. Had I known that was the bridge I had planned to take, I may have been more sceptical about the road ahead. Had I stopped to contemplate the road, the map, the running of the river, the tides of the sea, the phases of the moon and the height of the sun in the sky, perspicacious discretion might have got the better of inquisitive valour.  
“Onwards and upwards!”

That sounds a bit like ‘hills’ to me...

The plantation road was ok;

not as rough as last time... we asked some elderly ladies if we could get out this way?

”Yes - up there, turn left at the offices and into the park”.

At the ‘offices’ there was a security guard who just waved us through, probably out of spite. 

“We can get out this way, right?”

”Yes, yes”

”How far?”

“Maybe 30 minutes. On a motorbike”. 
He should have clarified “... if you know the way”

Apparently the Malay word for ‘formal garden or park’ is also used for Orang Asli Reserve or Nature Reserve, and possibly also for impenetrably dense jungles or swamps.

I was still emboldened by naive optimism that we were getting closer to home when I took this last photo

If you want a photo of the quaintly rural paths that followed, you can either away and eff yourself or <deleted> well go and take it yourself; I was suffering a sense of humour failure.  But stoic perseverance prevailed, and we got to the village, which had a narrow tarmac road.

 

My heart leapt! A tarmac road meant a connection, albeit not immediately direct, to Lorong Rahim Kajai 14 with its eight pubs!  When it reverted to gravel I almost fell off and wept.

 

But as good as the map, it did take us to an industrial estate and a tarmac road; one wrong turning almost saw my buddy wiped out by a maniac driving like a maniac, and a pull of the navigational fruit machine told me that the shortest way home was via Kundang and Tasik Biru (Lake Biru, although it is in fact water), and I started counting the kilometres home;      38... 37.5 ... 37 ... 36.9 ...

I was glad we’d set out at 0930; as it was, it was 5 pm when we set about the cider, and it was a while before I could speak.

[StreetCowboy]

Today saw six of us take a rake into town for a photo-op by the KLCC and Twin Towers

I was feeling quite sparky, and set some long-overdue personal bests on some of the familiar local hills.

Then in the afternoon I delivered my redundant ballet shoes to the New Boy, whose recovery was set back by dislocating his hip following his surgeon’s excellent hammer-and-chiselry a few weeks back. Anyway, I passed on my old ballet shoes and some ballet pedals as well.

[Metropolitian]

Literally refuel at Petronas

[StreetCowboy]

2 hours ago, Metropolitian said:

Literally refuel at Petronas

Although we didn't, and persevered to the banana leaf place at Sri Hartemas at km35 for sustenance.

The weather was not too hot, the traffic was not too busy, and the low point of the ride was a navigational error on my part, despite the advice I was given, which in the grand scheme of things, had no more impact than losing us maybe a kilometre of distance - and also we avoided Young A repeating the road past his house.  
- That's Young A's picture of the towers, by the way, not mine.  He's a bit more techno-savvy than us auld-fellas.

[soi3eddie]

A short solo ride from Phuket to Ranong, across to Kawthoung then all the way to Mawlamyine in Myanmar. Note the new road sign with Miles and Furlongs for distance. 1 furlong = 220 yards or 1/8th of a mile. Roadside markers also in KMs.

 

[StreetCowboy]

On 6/29/2020 at 4:21 PM, damascase said:

My 95 km early Sunday morning ride, here between Mae Chan and Mae Salong, north of Chiang Rai. Dark and cloudy but no rain....

I love the flatness of that road, and the mountains in the distance.  I hope they are as far away as they look.

[StreetCowboy]

This was a weekend of contrasts; Saturday morning, out for a brisk early morning spin with Ovalboy - he's a joy to cycle with, as he just loves to be out on his bike, he's not competitive, but he's very considerate when he's in front and takes care to set a pace that the people behind can follow.

 

Then in the afternoon, a visit to the New Boy, to see how he is recovering from his broken and dislocated hip; I brought him a few cans of cider - hair of the dog school of medicine, although the product is called "Apple Fox - inspired by the cider makers of New Zealand".  Anyway, I thought I was OK going home after the afternoon rain at about 6 pm, so I recklessly stopped off for some dinner in El Sid's.

  

Fortunately, the flood waters had subsided by 8 pm or so, and I was glad that I had charged my lights.

 

Sunday was altogether a different ride.  Out along Kesas Highway, down towards the Container Terminal at West Port or Pulau Indah, and then five kilometres along Jalan Star Finder to Angler Resort.

Jalan Starfinder is a sandy road beside the coast

and hard going on a road bike, even with my fat tyres.  Were it not for the fiercesome headwind, I would have been happy to turn tarmac and the viaduct over the river channel for home.  As it was, I was grateful to stop half-way up to admire the view and take photo

If the motorway services had not been closed for the weekend, it would have been a straightforward ride home, bar the headwind.  I let my buddy take the worst of it, till we were clear of the coast, and then we gave a brief little spurt as every truck passed us with his slip-stream.  It was slightly more than 30 km to the services from the beach, where we'd guzzled some water, and fortunately there were some shops ten km further, so disaster was averted.
There had been roadworks on the first viaduct on the highway coming home; the first gang had waved us through with a cheery smile, and the second gang were set to do the same when the escort set verbally about us with some grief that started with "Cannot!..."; little did he know!  We were only going three junctions (though quite far apart) and one of them was not built yet.  A truck pulling off the highway gave us some excellent pro-active signalling so we did not cross the slip road in front of him, and as mentioned, the slip stream from the trucks was the highlight of the afternoon.

Then back onto familiar roads, through the suburbs, How High Is That Viaduct? and minutes later, we're sat in Richfield Corner quaffing cider and rubbing aching muscles. 

 

Though I have missed perhaps the best bit of driving during the day... if you know the road as well as my buddy, you'll know that at the LDP Highway junction near where Western Digital's works used to be, the shortest way to Richfield Corner is turning right down the slip road towards the Highway, then off on the left.  The traffic started to move as we reached the queue at the traffic lights, and we had a slightly bold - bordering on aggressive, right turn across the traffic, who might be going straight but in the right hand lane.  But we were able to make our intentions clear, and for the sake of avoiding paperwork the motorists indulged our recklessness as best they could.     

 

 

[StreetCowboy]

Everyone’s balik kampung for the public holiday, so I took advantage of the sparse traffic to ride into the centre of KL for a pub lunch at The Green Man in Bukit Bintang

[StreetCowboy]

Saturday saw us take a ride out by the old leper colony.  On the way back from Sungai Buloh, there’s one nasty junction; the surface on the approach is rough as old dogs, enough to shake your fillings out; then, after you cross the highway, there’s fast traffic gunning it up from the main road.  But my junction-avoiding route would bring us back to the same junction, but fifty metres earlier, when the traffic would be a little slower, but not much. So we stuck with the original route.  With a safety briefing, which was, as usual “Hammer it, fast as you can”.

 

Having reviewed the route and the surrounding roads, I think the safest option would be to join the North - South Highway at the leper colony junction, come off at the next to the Kuala Selangor Highway (the converging main road) - it doesn’t avoid any traffic, but at least you’d be on the left-hand kerb side all the way.
 

You may recall, it was on the North -South Highway one or two junctions further up that the lady came out of the toll booth to say we could not go that way... Aye, right, as if we’re going to turn back and go through that clover-leaf junction reverse direction! Have these people no idea of road safety?

[StreetCowboy]

My Saturday mornings have been paying off.  As you know, Saturday morning is an early and brisk ride with The Young Boys (and The New Boy, who could be called the Old Boy, and Ovalboy, who is ages with me) - anyway, it’s a short brisk ride, and not so demoralising without the New Boy racing unassailably ahead, thanks to his home confinement with a broken hip.

On Sunday, we’d planned two loops - an early, brisk ride by the little airport,   then a gentle ride with some relative strangers to the group.
 

 My target had been to take the New Boy’s second place on the 10 km segment through Kota Damansara.  That was going to need good luck through the traffic lights, and we hammered it from the start.  You can imagine my disappointment when the first lights were green, and I realised I would have to maintain this pace for another 9 km.  I sent my buddy in front to take the lead for a while, then, as we approached the next incline, called for the lead, and put the hammer down.  My buddy could not keep up, I was able to judge the lights without losing too much speed... I was flagging on the final hill, but didn’t lose too much pace.  My buddy, whom I normally struggle to match, finished several seconds behind me.  For the rest of the ride, I was satisfied with a job well done. I struggled a bit later on, but most of us did.

It’s a mark of how tired I was when we got to the pub that I did not burst into tears when I discovered my phone had missed the entire segment.  As he left to go home to his wife, my buddy patted my shoulder - “maybe my data will be good enough”, and I blew into my handkerchief, put on my bravest face, and stumbled off to the next pub for dinner.

 

24 seconds.  We’re into 2nd place by 24 seconds ahead of the New Boy.  And that will be easier to improve upon than if I’d recorded six seconds shorter...I’m not going to target 1m38s improvement to get first place.

 

Tonight, I clocked a fastest time on my local loop despite despairing after the first climb (its a gentle 3 km loop with limited gradients, some traffic lights you can’t fly through) - I was sure I would not get a good time as I struggled, but I think I have substantially improved my ability to push myself, get closer to my limits and reduced my best time by almost two seconds per minute

[StreetCowboy]

I guess my arrogant boastfulness above was the direct cause of my failure to properly start Strava this morning.  It was a hard route - cruel, but fair, and I had not allowed for Ovalboy feeling poorly, nor Young A oversleeping and bursting a gut to get to the station. 
I was feeling grand, as my former deputy had been drinking like a sloth the night before, slowing us both down.

but sadly, due to operator error, I didn’t record any of the key hill climbs.  I don’t want to copy Ovalboy’s data, as I think that was better than what I achieved; at least young A’s data will still have 100% distance and elevation.  He really needs to bulk up and put on a lard waistcoat, to help see him through the hard times and avoid suffering lack of nutrition.

Anyway, I’ve signed up for this month’s climbing challenge, so I thought it prudent to find a route to the pub via some hills tonight.

[StreetCowboy]

I confirmed my popularity in the group when no-one turned up for my Johnny No-Mates Bangsar ride.

Hurt, but never thwarted, I carried on through Chinatown, Bukit Bintang, KLCC

Kampung Baru, Bukit Tunku, and finishing at Vin’s. 

The first time I’d been to Kampung Baru was twelve years ago, with the Yorkshire Miner.  We’d arranged to meet a former colleague from Taipei and Dubai in a named pub. “No need for directions, we’ll find it on the internet.”  Well, whoever had placed the flag had obviously thought Kuala Lumpur was close enough.  The Chow Kit / Kampung Baru borderlands is no place for innocent foreign consultants to be wandering of an evening, especially knowing that somewhere (specifically, somewhere else) your mates are enjoying a good bevvy.  Anyway, all’s well that ends well, eventually we got a taxi, our buddy got the bar staff to explain to the driver where we were going, we passed by the Twin Towers at least once on each side, and had a solid thirst on by the time we got to the pub.  This evening was not like that.  Except that I did have a bit of a thirst on by the time I got to Vins, so could not take a photo of  the full pint, despite it being Carlsberg.

[StreetCowboy]

My buddy’s in-laws are visiting, so he suggested a longer ride to keep him out of the house.  So a hundred kilometres each way to Sekinchan seemed perfect, with a stop-over on Saturday night.

The first 100 km were fairly brisk, but I was counting down the kilometres as we came towards Sekinchan.  I’d done a good job keeping us off the main West Coast Highway 5, but I reckoned we’d have more chance of finding a cider-merchant on the main road.  There was a 99 Supermarket just as we were entering town, and sure enough, they had Apple Fox and Somerset in the fridge.

”Right, we can come back here later, if we don’t find anywhere else.  Where  is the hotel?”

”Google Maps says 400 m straight ahead”

”Do you have these in boxes?”

They didn’t, so we loaded 24 cans into my panniers, and I used my small chain wheel to get to the hotel.

After we’d knocked off a couple of cans in the lobby, we were fit enough to check in, and then, after a quick shower, head out to scavenge some dinner.  There were plenty of non-halal seafood places (Sekinchan is renowned for rice paddies and seafood), but we took the opportunity to check out the beach

Hartlepool has a better beach, and a good view of the nuclear power station to boot, but it loses out regarding Chinese seafood.

By the time we’d cleaned off the remaining cans, and some dinner and late-evening prawns, we were glad it was a short ride back to the hotel.  I’d used my combination lock as a sobriety test - I reckon I’m in no fit state to cycle unless I can remember the combination and undo it.  I’d told my buddy the combination, in case he had to abandon me sleeping in the restaurant.

The way home in the morning took us on some of the longest, straightest roads I’ve ever been on.  Had I not been able to focus on my speedometer, and the odometer slowly ticking over, I’d have probably nodded off, or started to imagine myself sir Alec Guinness in Ice Cold in Alex.  Anyway, I was struggling...

”How far to the next stop?”

”Turn left here, then three more corners”

”That doesn’t sound so bad”

”About 35 km...”

We we’re ready for a drink stop by that time, and as it happened, there was a Burger King next to the garage. Of that ilk, I think Burger King is one of the best, and while we were waiting, I bought a big bottle of water from the garage.

”If I’d known we were coming to Burger King, I’d have been looking forward to it these last 35 km, so I’m lucky I didn’t, as I’d have been sorely disappointed”

Bestari Jaya does not have the best Burger King in Malaysia. But it’s still better than the best McDonalds, and the burgers did taste of meat.

Anyway, protein, starch, fats, caffeinated sugary drinks, and we were off! A final drink stop at Kundang motorway services, and we were off in the hope of avoiding the worst of the rain.  We certainly avoided the lightning, and the rain was not so bad; we’ve had worse.  But we had to ask them to turn the fan off in Sid’s, lest we catch a chill. 
Fair credit to Burger King, I was feeling better for the last 30 km than the first 30 km, and tried to get a good time on the last 11 km segment to the pub.  If we’d not missed a turning, I’d have been disappointed that we were 2 seconds per minute off the pace, but maybe I could blame that on the traffic lights; or maybe we couldn’t.  Anyway, not recorded because we missed a turn, but it wouldn’t have been a PB anyway.  And the pub had no cider, so we had to persevere another 300 metres to Sid’s.

I slept well and early on Sunday night, and felt fine in the morning, bar stiffness in the legs and a nose full of sunburn.  Or maybe it’s a bright red bevvy-nose.

 

[StreetCowboy]

Today’s rides were less photogenic than usual; Saturday morning down by Guthrie Highway - we passed more people than usually pass us, so maybe the national fitness is declining...

The New Boy, who is confined to home by his injuries, claimed to be working from home, and declined the offer of a cider delivery, so I had a short ride to El Sid’s to keep my climbing metres up for the sake of the August Challenge.  Anyway, no ride is so short that you can’t stop on the way home, and East 42 has cider, but I’m doubtful the Singapore Noodles will ever arrive

[StreetCowboy]

Ovalboy suggested the outline of today’s route, and google maps was showing scuff marks and fading where we’d been poring over it all week.

We were off up Jalan Sungai Buloh northward, then into the industrial estates, out through the kampungs, and then back avoiding the demolished road we normally come home; the latest works to be added to that road are some speed bumps of substantial height and very sharp curvature.

Google Maps said that the monkey bridge had been restored, and was passable to pedestrian but not automobiles; I was sceptical.

Back in the day, it had been a ramshackle affair that you would go over single file, and not two at a time.  Maybe three years ago, it was washed away, collapsed, or demolished - I have a vague misrecollection that maybe one time we scrambled across its ruins but anyway, we’d stopped taking that road, and found an alternative.

So the route there was not fresh in my mind, but as we got closer I recognised some of the factories and other landmarks.  And there it was - Rebuilt bigger stronger and super humanly narrower - the CyberMonkeyBridge!

 

Its only wide enough for one person - Danny Macaskill - but certainly sturdy enough!

We came back past Johnny’s My Bicycle Shop, and he’s not open on Saturday mornings in the new location either; back to the roti shop next to his old place for breakfast; and we got choice of tables, getting there before the coppers.

[StreetCowboy]

Sunday’s ride started off calm and steady ... STEADY! It was a defenete wacky driving day ... Anyway, calm and sensible down to the airport road, a bit of briskness past the airport, and hammer down until Jalan Sungai Buloh.  It’s a good road to hammer, and back in the day, the climbs were a challenge to summit, rather than speed... back through the back roads, up to Desa Park City, over to Mont Kiara to meet A on his Miraculous Folding Brompton... we’re fanging it down the hills, and there he is, keeping pace over your shoulder; we’re busting a gut climbing, and there he is, over your shoulder.

 

Anyway, I was suffering from the rake past the airport and up Sungai Buloh, and I was happy to stop for a photo-op at the Twin Towers; you and I both have seen them often enough, but his Brompton folds up something marvellous.  And from there, it was just a matter of finding a suitable pub On the way home; sometimes, you have to play to your strengths...

[StreetCowboy]

My buddy volunteered to service my bike, because he loves tinkering, and his own bike couldn’t take any more fettling.  So I thought I’d better hose the worst of the muck off it first.  While I was on the hose at the car wash, one of my neighbours came over and said, in a heavy Soviet accent “I can clean it properly; I have the tools”; he’s the former Astana guy that used to work at the local bike shop...

So me and my buddy greased and oiled and adjusted as best we could, disassembled And greased and filed, but didn’t cure, the clicking pedal.  And then I gave it to My Neighbour to replace the chain and bar tape, and fix the click, if he could.

The bike is riding like a dream now, and despite him not having the right size wrench to disassemble the pedal, the clicking disappeared.  For about a kilometre.  I noticed today that the shopping bike pedal(s) click as well.  Anyway, my bike is as well-fettled as it could be, and I’ll just have to live with the clicking pedal until it needs replaced; with all the greasing it’s had, that might be a lot more than 10,000 km

[StreetCowboy]

You may recall that the Heineken local cider product is Apple Fox, and that the New Boy is off the cycling for a combination of mishaps.

So I’d offered to come and visit him, with a few Foxes.  I was happy he didn’t say “yes, for Foxes’ sake”, lest anyone mistake him for Irish.

He was on Skype to his children when I arrived, so I let myself in, and his dog went berserk - or at least a bit yelpy, at the Foxes.

Anyway, he’s back on his feet, working part time, and suffering more from taking it easy out of concern, than his injuries; and should be fine for Pubcycle 2020 if we can tailor the route to his limitations

[StreetCowboy]

This weekend was relatively quiet, with a Saturday morning trip out to USJ - USJ Cycles is a good, efficient and reasonably friendly bike shop with reasonable prices and a good web site, but we didn't stop while we were there.  

We'd come via a different route through Petaling Jaya that saw us going through the Paramount Station car park, then under How High Is That Viaduct to USJ, and back via Subang Jaya.  My plan had been to go round the Subang Jaya Loop, which is laid out like a Nascar circuit, then over the Federal Highway to Glenmarie and diverging for a rake up past Subang Airport.  But Big G had to be back for family commitments, so we found our way onto the Federal Highway motorcycle lane and were home in good time.  They've laid a tarmac ramp across the gutter where we come off the Federal Highway onto the street, and I was chortling with glee and anticipation of telling my buddy - showing him, even, on our Sunday ride.  Up till now, you had to gingerly roll carefully over the gutter - now you can fly out down the ramp with reckless abandon and complete disregard for the possibility of approaching traffic.

I could not be bothered planning a ride for Sunday, so we just raked up and down the Federal Highway.  Its a nice bike lane, though it was quite busy with motorcycles this weekend.  Nice enough until you get to Klang... The last ten km or so through Klang town are pretty miserable with flyovers and busy junctions, and I'm glad we don't go there very often.  Port Klang was as disappointing as last time we went there, though at least there were no naive expectations to be dashed.

 

Despite a bit of dawdling at the port, we made good time and averaged better than 24 km/h rolling speed all the way to Yi Lo, a Chinese restaurant that sells cheap cider.  Looking around the other tables, they seem to sell food as well.   From there, it's only about six km home, but no ride is short that you can't stop on the way