I shall die on a bike. This is not some crazy dream premonition that I have had, nor is it the result of lacing some gypo's palm with silver. No, it is just a fact. My death shall be the result of a bike accident. Whether here on my Phantom, or back home on my mountain bike I know not, but sooner or later, a bike shall kill me.
In the past four days I have had more close calls on my bike than the ill-fated Evil Kenevil School For Children With No Sense Of Balance. I have had people open truck doors right into my path, I have skidded on gravel left lying in the road, I have swerved around a local who didn't realise that 'indicators' are usually used to 'indicate' that you are going to turn. Swerving sharply and swearing loudly at the foreigner who nearly high sided you (guess who) is a road safety technique I am getting all too familiar with.
This is also the week in which I discovered my bike has five gears, and not four. I can only guess how happy the engine is that I finally found this out!
There are also parts of the road I am leaning to avoid. This would be any part of the road where there is paint. Or as I like to call it 'Killer White Lines Of Teflon'. Changing lanes here is not for the faint of heart. Where two lanes have been laid side by side it is also wise to avoid the join in the asphalt. For some reason my bike likes to swerve wildly if my wheels touch these.
This week seems to have been one bike incident after another. I'm not going any faster than I usually do, I'm not being more wreckless than usual, I'm not doing anything different from what I would any other week, and yet suddenly the roads ahead of me have been filled with surprises and danger. Please keep in mind that this all started after my headlight blew. This leads me to but one conclusion.
I sense a change in my bike.
Gone to the dark side it has.