Cycling as Method, Cycling as Weathering II

It was a magic morning commute. May 16. Autumn. Body and world in sympoetic harmony. No road rage directed towards me. No foul smells (except for the odd exhaust, to be expected). Via the postbox, the River, the Sydenham Stormwater and Drainage Pit, the Doctor’s office, Wilson Street, Codrington Street and here to USYD where I write. Work. I tweeted about it along the way. I got sweaty but the air was cool enough to regulate. I got puffed but the air wasn’t thick or soupy. I feel good. Sometimes it’s awful and then sometimes its like today.

Then, THEN!, I arrive to work and find Atlas Obscura, a mailing list that I have just subscribed to that sends weird and wonderful things to my inbox, is a story about a network of forgotten cycling infrastructure in the UK:

That said, I’m a bit of a populist, and I’d prefer a network of cycling highways not to be so damn forgotten and obscure.



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