To Clementi and Changi, 122. The crescent moon hangs low over the night sky, looking like a luminous slice of Fuji apple. 11 cyclists slice through the night air, with three mountain bikers among the Ascender roadies. It's my first ride with them, and I like it. They're friendly, don't dawdle and cycle at a constant pace of 30 km and above. Just two rest stops, and they don't even stop for a sit-down supper. We have two close calls on the way, each time from drivers who seek to deny us the right of way and the right to life. How high class the Ascender chaps are; no coarse language or one-finger salutes.
Photo courtesy of KA
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