Mean Machine

On most days when I'm on the roads, with nothing but a bunch of aluminium and rubber tubes between me and the hot asphalt zooming under me, I imagine myself as a machine.



I am not my legs. They are merely pistons whose rate per minute I deftly command. Uphill? I mentally slam my throttle and those pistons speed up and send me a little closer up towards heaven. Flesh, metal and rubber, they're all just different parts of the same machine.



It's fun doing sprints on long empty paths, going so fast I feel like I'm gonna lift off the ground at any time. Make sure you have good brakes, reliable tyres and a clean path.

Large engines burn alot of fuel. I REALLY ate alot today. Like, a large chicken cutlet for lunch and Carl Jr's for dinner. And a donut and a couple of coffees in between.

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I restored the foldable bicycle of my childhood, it's in surprisingly good condition and needed little more than a clean-up and wire to secure a broken plastic mudguard. That bike had hardly seen even a fraction of what my GT had traversed so far.

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Met up with girl, groovy and Rankie today and it was a blast.



Those donuts at Raffles City basement? Tiny, sorta overrated.

I bought a straw-coloured belt to go with my black jeans. And oh yes, it's possible to engage in conversation about prime numbers.

Friends are find and dandy, but it's been ages since I've found someone to love.

Being loved is so exhilarating.

Loving, even more so.

Might it be chemistry? Or just physical attraction? Or merely a manifestation of a biological urge to reproduce?