WORDS: Roger Moroney
PHOTO: Metzeler
WINTER’S ICY TALONS
“
Mother Nature is a brute
when she wants to be, but
she demands and accordingly
deserves respect
e had the remnants of a tropical
storm come sailing down through
these eastern parts over the past
couple of days and in the hearts of
cities in the way it was like there had been a
mass evacuation.
I went for a midday wander for no good
reason except to feel the brunt of Mother
Nature’s fury, but chose a time when only
the wind was active. The rain had called it
quits for a time, although the darkening
skies to the southeast indicated the ugly
weather system still had a fair old quantity
of moisture in it.
Amidst the four streets of the CBD I
wandered through I reckon there may have
been eight or nine people. People with faces
like mine. Slightly grimacing... and there
were no hands in sight... all were sensibly
tucked away within pockets. Except for the
young chap pushing his scooter, for his
gloved hands were wrapped around the
grips as he pushed the thing along
62 KIWI RIDER
the footpath.
It was a tiny scooter. A 50cc job. The sort of
scooter which, in the 55km/h gales which
were sweeping across the landscape, would
have felt like it was constructed of balsa
wood. I could only assume the lad had
encountered a bit of a ‘moment’, and wisely
decided that the best plan of action while
the winds were at their wildest was to wheel
the thing.
And in the two central designated parking
spots, the ones with the big MC letters painted
on the deck, there were no motorcycles. On a
normal meteorological day there would have
been a dozen, and among that number there
were usually about seven or eight scooters.
But not that day, with the only initially
resilient scooterist wisely deciding that
pushing the thing was the best option. And
I’m sure he was asking himself why the hell
he had decided to take it to town in those
conditions in the first place.
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