The Rare Kiwi Polylemma

Location: Waganui, NZ  Ride: here

Oh man, am I glad I decided to chill out. I was faced with a juicy polylemma. Don’t know what that is? Neither did I until I realized that I wasn’t in the dilemma I thought I was in, but one that involved too many roads to choose, none of which I found particularly appetizing, and that, my friends, is a polylemma. Look it up. 

Yesterday, all of New Zealand could go fuck itself. That what I was thinking. I was so soured after a very close call with a trucker that I was deep in struggle. I wanted, oh, I deeply wanted to let the beauty affect me, but I was so very busy upstairs thinking of everything and why they guy in the silver SUV gave me the finger, completely unprovoked, and why that trucker, with 800 meters of clear road on his right, decided to come within a foot of my head. 

I have never had a closer call in my life. I stopped a little bit after it happened and looked around for about 5 minutes, shocked.  I would have probably cried in that face-of-death moment if I hadn’t been so murderously angry. 

I was thinking that this was such a sad waste. Such wealth of scenery and the people who claimed it taking such measure to squander it. I was deeply puzzled how the people I met, who seemed so pleasant and leisurely in person, could be so deliberately vicious behind the wheel. 

Cows holding up everyone from...more cows. 

The very moment I decided to leave New Zealand ironically came in a very idyllic setting.; a herd of cows were being led down the two lane road, and I stopped, because they were young, and nervous, but mostly because they took up the whole road plus the shoulder plus the grass on the side. 

And yet, despite this, the SUV behind me decided that it would just try and drive through them, scaring all of them and creating quite a bit of methane.

I had had enough. 

I had tried and I was tired of trying and I was tired of hoping it would change. 

I spent two hours on the phone with Expedia.com, getting nowhere. I spent another three looking into a trip to New Caledonia and scouting rides. I spent another three finding out how much it would cost to go back to Australia, return this rental car, get another, and……

So, I found a motel in Wanganui, and I booked three straight nights (a first.) I needed to reset. 

And I decided, after my 3 hour ride today, which refreshed me immensely, that despite how much fun it is to rant, that I would rave. Maybe I could fix myself that way. And I would chill.

Because, truth be told, I’m having a blast. But I have not really mentioned that much lately. So, that is mentioned. 

Hamish the HitchHiker. 

I would mention Hamish, a very smelly guy from Christchurch, who was hitchhiking along my way to Wellington, before I went to the South Island. I picked him up and we talked for an hour or so before I left him in Palmerston North. His cracked lower lip still haunts me. 

I would mention Trevor, who works at a small, country gas station outside of Wanganui, were I rode today. I flatted about 20 miles from the finish of the ride, and used the only tube I had. About 10 miles later, I flatted again. The tire was fucked. Luckily, I happened to flat by one of the only three houses on that 20 miles stretch, and the woman there told me a gas station was only a mile or so up the road. 

So I rode, with my rear tire completely deflated, to Trevor. To do that, I had to stand the lean all the way forward, treating the front tire like you would a unicycle. It worked, and that would be a first for me. When you're screwed, you make shit up. 

There was no bike pump. But there was plenty of other random, dirty shit in a box and an air compressor. So, somehow, and despite it being around 6PM in the evening and clearly after closing time, Trevor and I managed to fashion up a solution. I patched the tube with my patch kit, and then took the $20 bill I had and placed it between the tube and the very obvious hole in the tire, to protect the tube. 

We blew it up as far as we could get it and I made it back to my hotel. 

From todays ride. 

Look, the end result here is that I am consistently being tested. I don’t think that is untrue for any human. And I tend to sometimes lose it, because being angry is fun sometimes, and I can humor myself when I realize I am being ridiculously negative.

Like when I was sitting outside my hotel room two nights ago in Nelson, pissed off at the ducks scattering around my feet for cookie crumbs. 

I was angry at cute little ducks. For wanting food, while on vacation in New Zealand with my bike, and no alarm clock. 

When you travel alone, you forego the luxury of someone to slap you in the face. But given time, and ensuring you follow the basic priorities you set, eventually you fall out of bed and hit your head. And then all is right. 

Today was a great day because I started it on the dark side, and I battled that force all the all way around the to the light. That makes a body proud. And that is what it means to be positive. 

I’ll stay here. And I’ll keep waiting and trusting. In my experience, it’s a method that keeps on delivering, despite it’s challenges. After all, what good is all this sun without a soggy, cold day to remind us of how lucky we are?

VIDEO FROM SOUTH ISLAND RIDE: 
I don't have video of the trucker, but what started out as a great video, became a coitus interruptus: