..and tandem bicycles...

I would just like to say thank you to everyone who sent me their nightmare recipes.

Thank You.

The concept is still a work in progress (but don't hold your breath) I will get there.

Yes David. B I'm sure LSD, Ecstasy, Morphine, BZP and Pot do create weird dreams, but mate.. I really just wanted to keep on the right side of the law and it was about food my man.. food - you know that stuff you put in your mouth for nourishment... thank you anyway your views were insightful and.. errr, sort of appreciated. (*note to self* - delete Dave's emails and remove his address from address book, clear browsing history and empty cache!)

I don't usually like to put photos with my blogs but not everybody knows the area I'm about to describe so I thought Google maps could come to the party and help for those not familiar with Auckland or the Auckland museum.

View Larger Map

This story came back to me because we needed to borrow a fork hoist from a company down the road the other day and nobody from my workplace except myself was keen to drive it for fear of doing something stupid and damaging it. It's always a bit of a bummer when you borrow somebodys, anything, and take it back damaged. Yes?

This line of thinking reminded me that, this is not always the case.

Some years back myself and my friend Mike were at a loose end early one Saturday morning. We decided it would be fun to take a ride around the Auckland museum on a tandem bicycle which you could rent cheaply from a stand set up outside the main museum entrance.

We headed off into the city keen to have a bit of a peddle, soon enough we found ourselves at the bike rental stall itching to get cracking.

We flipped a coin to see who would be in charge of steerage, (I secretly thought that losing this toss would really enable me to win by virtue of the fact that Mike wouldn't be able to see what was happening in relation to peddling...)

Mike won the toss and happily climbed aboard believing himself the more fortunate to be controlling our direction...

Our instructions from the bikes owners were quite clear, we were free to ride anywhere within the grounds of the museum, but only within the grounds.

This in itself constituted a not unsubstantial amount of area, consisting of many pathways and roads including the botanic gardens and the Wintergarden.

Being sound of body and simple of mind this didn't present much of a challenge to two rapscallion delinquents such that we were.

Lacking any better direction other than that of our own infinite wisdom we decided that nobody would be any the wiser if we trundled off down to Stanley Street.

Either road that leads down to Stanley St would be a pleasant coast, although to this day I'm lost to explain why we would want to go that far downhill, being that it would be a rather hard slog on the return journey.

I am also at a loss to explain why we then decided that rather than take either of the long winding roads to the bottom of the hill, it would be far more clever to ride directly down hill over the grass and through the trees...???

For those of you unfamiliar; the Museum is situated atop a reasonably high point overlooking Auckland harbor and in relation to Stanley St which is almost at sea level, not a long distance separates the two.

This means that the incline towards Stanley St from the museum is reasonably steep, especially in a straight line, unlike the two roads which follow the natural line of the ridges and wend there way gently down to Stanley St.

It didn't take us very long to realize that the hand brakes the bicycle was equipped with were next to useless once the wheel rims became wet from the last of the mornings dew.

It was also not very long before we had picked up a substantial amount of speed.

Application of the foot brake was beginning to become perilous as this more often than not started us on a slide that several times threatened to dismount us both at speed.

I suppose.. in retrospect, that this would have been the paramount moment in which alternative options should have been embraced.

To be honest that moment came and went in a flash of scratchy bushes and dangerously solid looking tree trunks!

Before either of us realized what was happening we were thoroughly out of control and were now haring down the hill at breakneck speed, only able to slow our breathtaking descent by the most minimal of degrees. Several times we crashed painfully through small shrubs, unable to avoid them. Bursting out the other side shredded and lacerated, leaves and twigs in our mouths and hair. It was without doubt, luck, that kept us astride our mount. (.. actually - given a moment to ponder, I think now, that staying astride the cycle was more a case of not wanting to hit the ground at that speed, more than anything else!)

It seems from memory that at no time did the opportunity arise to make a safe dismount before without warning we streaked from the undergrowth and plunged several feet from the grass level, off the cut out embankment and down on to Lovers Lane, one of the roads we had been so clever to avoid at the beginning of our safari.

Lady luck played her part well and although we landed heavily on the tar seal road perpendicular to the traffic flow in either direction no cars were present at that precise moment!

We may have bounced.

Personally I don't recall that particular detail. I do however remember the excruciating pain in my tail bone.

As we had both been standing on the pedals during this whole stunt we were spared the majority of the impact via our knees, nonetheless the impact had of course been significant. We had both, despite our crouched positions landed heavily and slammed hard into our seats greatly bruising our posteriors and in my case snapping one peddle off at the crank.

Next I knew we had shot over the edge of the opposing side of the road and down the grass bank on the other side.

As fortune would have it, the bank on this side of the road was yet again steeper still than that which we had already descended.

We were soon to discover that our heavy landing had in fact done a great deal more damage to the cycle than it had to our bums.

It seemed that apart from my only having one pedal, both wheels had become a little out of shape and were wobbling in a most unsettling manner. Of most concern however was the realization that in the smash to the road the back wheel had now become locked via the chain to the remaining pedals. The front pedals and my singular rear pedal were now being rotated at a fierce rate by the back wheel and neither Mike nor myself were in anyway inclined towards attempting to put our feet near them.

Once again, in retrospect, throwing ourselves to the ground or tipping ourselves deliberately over would have brought forth a far more optimal outcome as that which occurred - but such is retrospect...

We were now both forced to sit on our seats and we no longer had the comparative luxury of standing on our peddles and using our knees as shock absorbers. The jarring our butts were taking was horrendous and did little to help our general stability as once again our downward pace began to increase. Denied what little braking we had managed via the foot brake until now, our headlong dash became evermore menacing.

I know what your thinking - "why didn't you just put your feet down". The truth is that at that speed all of our focus had gone from stopping - to surviving!

While Mike was doing his best to navigate our dumbasses around the obviously more deadly obstacles and through only the softest looking shrubs my focus was entirely put to gauging when I should brace for impact!

Within an instant we came upon the next bank cut out for Lower Domain drive and as we burst through the bushes and flew through the air three feet above the tar seal I was certain that we were about to die a most painful death, if not by colliding with a motor vehicle then certainly death would come from having a bicycle seat rammed brutally up ones anus!

Once again lady luck played her part on the vehicle front, although a car coming downhill but still someway up the road must have received quite the nasty surprise as we appeared without notice and airborne, to land with a jaw breaking crash on the opposing side of the road. Such was our velocity I believe we made the center line before touchdown! The pain in my buttocks was a whole new level of discomfort and I was certain I had heard a tearing noise!

Mike had ended up sitting sideways looking up Lower Domain Drive as my handle bars were welded to his seat and in the last moments before sailing off the embankment I had instinctively, and with the adrenalin strength of ten men, forced my handle bars around in a futile effort to turn us away from the road.

Our luck unfortunately or fortunately, however you would like to look at it didn't hold and as we careened off the edge of the road again our sorrowful ruin of a cycle snapped cleanly in the middle and Mike and I flew inelegantly, limbs akimbo several feet further downhill from the road edge. We both landed heavily and terribly awkwardly in the scrub and shrubs on the very steep side of Lower Domain Drive.

Both Mike and I were most likely concussed, as best I recall at that point, there was a period of darkness.

When I moved next I remember feeling that I was a player in a rather surreal pantomime.

Mike was still on the ground laying on his back with a vacant and rather squirrelly look on his head. I was still holding on to my handlebars, complete with Mike's seat but the rest of the execrable cycle was not to be seen. We were both covered from tip to toe in grazes, scratches and cuts and one of my shoes was rapidly filling with blood that was pouring down my leg from somewhere...???

I only vaguely recall us checking each other over, Mike had a reasonably deep cut on his forehead which was bleeding profusely but I'd had enough cuts on the head playing league to know that it was mostly superficial and probably wouldn't need to be stitched.

Embarrassingly it was while I had the back of my shorts pulled down so he could check my butt to see where all that blood was coming from that I noticed an old fellow standing on the edge of the road gazing down at us shaking his head and tut tutting...

Turns out I had quite a deep cut half way up my back and it was dribbling quite steadily down my back and leg.

We staggered around searching through the undergrowth until we found the tattered remnants of the much abused and miserable cycle and began the long and painful walk back up the hill.

What I can clearly remember, was wondering how we were going to get away with this fiasco and despondently calculating what the replacement cost of a tandem bicycle was...

Unbeknown to me, Mikes expression of disconsolate concern was not due to his having vaguely similar thoughts as I, but was in fact just a case of mild concussion.

I can only imagine the image we must have presented on arriving back at the bike rental stand. Both of us cut, bruised and bleeding and each carrying a half a bicycle and an assortment of ruined parts.

Before I could begin to explain and to my utter disbelief, Mike threw his wreckage on the ground with complete disgust and glared dangerously at the bikes owner, to this day I will never forget his exact words.

"So", he spat accusingly. "Are the bloody pedals meant to fall off these fucking things!". "Are they meant to snap completely in half!". "Did we ask to rent two unicycles, NO WE DID NOT". "We were damn near killed today!".

With a final look of absoloute distain at the hapless stall owner he hobbled away in the direction of our car. I quickly followed his lead, throwing my pieces of cycle onto Mikes pile, casting what I hoped to be my most withering look of revulsion at the now completely flummoxed attendant.

- "Are they meant to snap completely in half?"-

- Oh my god! - Now that my friends, is gold.

Currently Listening to:

Good Charlotte - Good Morning Revival.