Woodlands, 47 km. The last time I was home for Christmas was in 2002. In subsequent years, I was away cycling: Malaysia, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia ... This year, work keeps me here while others go away. Here, some wear bling bling to Christmas parties. I put on my 'blink blink' to warn motorists to keep away. Cycling here is different from riding elsewhere because I:
a) Look at the weather radar to see whether and where it would rain (wet season here, dry season there)
b) Think about when drunk drivers would be on the road (Christmas is big party time here, not over there)
c) Cycle here at night (street lights here, usually none over there).
On the road, I see the law of the jungle in action: a car driver without even signaling cuts into a motorcyclist's way to make a left turn. A motorcyclist cuts into a cyclist's way; at least the former beeps the latter to relinquish her right of way. At Woodlands immigration, a procession of big trucks forms; 4-wheelers, 14-wheelers, 18-wheelers ... the tail back trails all the way back to the Turf Club.
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