That moment when you realise the traffic isn’t as bad as it should be for 8.30am and you think there may have been some kind of doomsday event that you didn’t catch on the morning news.
That moment when the council truck is parked in the driveway and you have to jump down the curb.
That moment when you smell the coffee roasting instead of the car fumes.
That moment when there are more bikes than cars at an obscure intersection near the city.
That moment when you realise it is really quite hot today.
That moment when you realise the traffic is actually very bad.
That moment when you smell the fish markets.
That moment when there are five cyclists at the front of the lights at the big intersection and you all shepherd each other between bumper to bumper cars, buses and trucks.
That moment when you get annoyed at the bike/pedestrian planning on Pyrmont Bridge.
That triumphant tour de france yellow jersey moment when you make it through the bike lights on the cycle path between sussex and kent on king.
That moment when you realise all the carparks are airconditioned.
That moment when you have to dismount and walk because of Barangaroo infrastructure development has closed the cycleway for 10 metres.
That moment while you are walking when you imagine making a short film about a temporary road closure where drivers are asked to get out and push their car to the next intersection due to similar road works.
That moment when you overtake someone on the uphill bit where people usually overtake you.
That nasty northwesterly headwind riding over the harbour bridge.
That moment when an old lady in the volvo that tut-tuts you for riding the wrong way up a really quiet one way street.
That moment when you feel a bit guilty and think “get a life old lady this really should be where the bike path is anyway” at the same time.
That moment when a young woman with a pram makes everything better by saying “nice work” when you get to the top of the steepest bit of the entire ride.
That moment when the tow-truck driver lets you in.
That moment when you can’t help but think it might be the short shorts.
That moment when you top the hill and arrive at work and think it was a great ride and realise you are quite hot and sweaty and decide to write up your entire trip in That meme.
- Middle aged man, driving a bronze SUV, in sunglasses, windows up.
Cyclist wends her way down Wilson Street, Darlington. She’s thinking about the craziness of her life at the moment. Past. Present. Future. Thoughts can be represented with interpretive dance. Although it is 8am the traffic is light and she’s making good time. The sun in shining. The birds are singing. Life’s good. She’s wearing a bright red coat and a bright green helmet. She has second thoughts about her outfit: she thinks she probably looks like a Christmas tree. She comes to a roundabout and sees an SUV coming up the street to her left. She thinks unconsciously ‘no worries’; she’s got right of way two times over because he’s on her left and he’s not even at the roundabout yet. She enters the roundabout. She realises that the SUV is not stopping.
Cyclist: (loudly) Whoa, Whoa, Whoa.
She slows down so the impact is not dramatic. He hits her. Luckily he’d slowed to turn the corner too. Her bike scratches the front of his car, but she comes off the bike but does not fall over. There’s a short standoff. Cyclist looks directly at the driver desiring acknowledgement of his wrong and an apology. The driver gestures impatiently for the cyclist to move on.
Cyclist: (Loudly, gesticulating wildly) Aren’t you even going to apologise for almost running me over?
The driver, unresponsive, reverses a little in order to get around the cyclist and speeds off down the street. Cyclist looks around for recognition of this injustice, and the impertinence and gall of the man in the unnecessarily large car. Nobody is around. Cyclist rides off thinking how glad she was to not be hurt, how much she wanted to kick the car, but also glad that she is that she had restraint, because by not kicking the car she retains the moral high ground. The second wave of thoughts can also be represented with interpretive dance, but ideally dancers would have a costume change to signal that the mood of the thoughts had darkened somewhat since the incident.
Playwright’s statement: This is a follow up to Wednesday Morning, a representation of the possible harmony between Cyclists and Pedestrians in future. This drama perhaps represents the particularly toxic dimension of the current relationship between Cyclists and Drivers in Sydney from the Cyclist’s perspective.