Adjustment

Yio Chu Kang Road, 24 km. My helmet shifts easily. Safety is illusory. I'm about to retire my brain bucket, then adjust the straps a final time. It works. My jury-rigged map carrier crashes into my legs when I stand on the pedals. I pull some strings and it sits nicely on the handlebar. I too, seem to adjust well to this post-cold, pre-Laos training regime. Two roadies cycle ahead. They catch the draft of a bus. I'd throw in the towel if I had one. I grip the handlebar grimly and grind away instead, and catch up on my fat squishy tyres. Someone wonders if I'll adjust to the new office structure. I think so.