This summer in Singapore, at the East Coast Park, I revisited an old love after many many years. I think it must have been about 15 years since I last sat on a cycle and let the wind blow through my hair as I pedalled away all my unwanted thoughts.
Back in Dhabi days, cycling was a daily thing. I would take the red bike out and pedal away, past the KFC, past that perfume store, across the side intersection, past that pole M walked into and all the way to the edge where the main road was. We weren’t allowed beyojd that point so so make the route back interesting, I would go around the building, taking the small alley way back instead of retracing. Somedays I would pretend it was the countryside and I was one of the Famous Five on our way to a picnic. Ohter times it was high speed chase scene, and I would careen to the left and the right to avoid being hit by the baddies behind me. But my favourite rides were the ones that obliterated all thought, that were just about the cycling, of pushing that pedal forward, hearing that jugga-jugga sound of the wheels on the cobbled pavement, no thought, just the cool breeze, the peoplescape swishing by and simply me. In the moment.