Woodlands, 49 km. The weather dithers. Sun beats down, hides behind a cloud, peaks out again, repeat. I check out the weather radar online. It'll be down for two months. The 3-hour nowcast has bad news (how there's a nowcast without weather radar escapes me). Half of the country is under thunder-and-lightning clouds, the other half is under clouds which may burst with rain. I cycle anyway, asking for trouble. Not because I want to, but because I desperately must ride today. An escape for a few hours. Escape with my life, I do.
A white car stops in its tracks at a blind corner; the monkey-brained driver looking at monkeys. I yell "blind corner" but the driver probably didn't catch the obvious. I pass a 3m long snake, which, despite its much smaller head, has enough sense to get off the road unlike aforesaid driver. Midway through the ride, rain drifts down. I see the edge of the black clouds. I sprint. The rain drops intensify into the "plop plop" type and I seek refuge at a bus stop. Of course, I'd cleaned and lubed my drive train. When the rain lightens up, I scurry off. A car, black as death, wanders about aimlessly ahead, then drifts to a stop. With wet rims, brakepads and road, my bike slews as I brake hard.
Gracefully, I come to a halt. I find my voice. "Hellooo! Dangerous!" I could've smacked into death's butt, bounce off and be run over by the car behind. A minor detail, of course, to the man at the wheel (I hesitate to use the word "driver" as I still believe drivers supposedly pass tests before they're allowed to operate their lethal weapons).
On the home stretch, I see a green twig, with most of it curly-wurly on the road and its head raised to see what's coming. It's a tiny snake. What does this portend of the future, or am I reading, thinking too much?