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Doing dumb stuff since forever




This week Glen found a notebook in a pile of stuff in a cupboard.

It was full of positive affirmations, written by me, in list form. The items commented variously on sunny aspects of our stage of life, ability to do stuff, and our engagement in things that we enjoy.

Neither of us can recall what made me write this list, but it was written in several colours, in a variety of handwriting and covered a few pages. It must have been created over a period of time. Presumably when the day-to-day was feeling less than ideal.

I read through them, and they are mostly still true, which has to be a win.

The one that made me smile the most, however, was fairly cryptic:

16. Wrist probably not broken

I am pretty sure the wrist that was probably not broken didn’t get that way from a gardening incident, or from falling down the stairs.

It would have been from doing something dumb on my bike, one of a series of dumb things I have been doing since I was dumb enough to get on one in the first place.

Example: only last night I met a Rotorua local, as we trundled back to town after our various laps of the trails high in the bush. He is the proprietor of an iconic Rotorua cafe, which opened the same month Nzo did, several decades ago. He was wearing an old Nzo bike top, and a liberal coating of dirt down his right side.

I called him out on that evidence of a mishap, and he owned up to it, got an off-camber rooty bit wrong, etc.

We parted ways at a junction, headed for a different exit, and my friend yelled “so you’re off to Strava the kids loop?” In a particularly derisive manner. Which was strictly true, but not the overall goal of my outing. So the kids loop back to the carpark: flat, fairly featureless, usually full of family groups but not when it’s nearly dark.

There are four perfect curves, with berms, and my favourite dumb thing to do there is sprint like a dog is after me for fifty metres or so before them, then whistle through them without touching the brakes. Last night it went well until the last curve, mind wandered, so did front wheel, bada bing, on the deck.

Elbow probably not broken. 




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