MORONEY
ROSSI’S NEXT WIN WRITTEN IN THE STARS?
Words: Roger Moroney
Rossi’s last win was three years ago at the Dutch TT. Is he due for another, written in the stars?
A
nd so, another day passed by. Had sorted the
shopping (a six-pack of “essential supplies”
and had made a dreadful job of painting the
weary old barbecue table out the back. I mean,
they create them and send them out coated with a
darkish ash-brown sort of rustic finish, but they do
fade... so what did I do? As the local paint shop had
padlocks on the doors, I searched for a compromise
coating within the dusted old landscape of old
paints and pots under the bench in the shed. I
found the perfect solution. It was called “Desert
Tan” or something like that. Perfect. Except that at
some stage I’d topped the mixture up with some
extra white to do the cupboards. So, now the once
rustic, but slightly shoddy, barbie table looks like
something you’d sit at within the confines of a
smart winery. I guess that ain’t a bad thing at the
end of the day.
Couple of cans and a toasted sandwich... not quite
the fare of a smart winery, but, hey, I’ve left a stain
on the thing already so when the padlocks come
off the paint shop doors I’ll head down and get a
pot of rustic ash-brown stuff... and stop at the old
super’ on the way back for some essential items to
ensure I do not dehydrate while applying the real
coat. Interesting times these, but given the media
is awash with tales of viral woes and wonders I don’t
wish to add to it. Instead, I would like to use this
time and space to share with you dear reader
(although I’d like to hope that should be the plural
rather than the singular) a remarkable experience I
encountered the other night... under clear skies
which provided super-duper images of the many,
many stars out there.
I had gone outside to make sure I’d left the car
unlocked so that it could be stolen and I could get
some cash from the insurance bods, and I looked
up... as one does on a dark and clear and pleasant
autumn night.
I saw a moving star. Small but bright, and moving
fast given it must have been maybe a hundred km
up in our close space attic. It ran from the sort of
northwest across in the direction of the northeast
and, being an avid night sky watcher, I was delighted.
More so when about 10 seconds later I spotted
another fast-moving satellite. Same track and
same illuminance.
“You don’t see that every day,” I called to the
missus. “Well you wouldn’t”, she replied. “It’s night
time.” Fair point. But then, then, then... there was a
third one. Same path and same brightness. “It’s a
race,” I declared.
That would have been Marquez on the first
brightly lit “machine” on this celestial track, followed
by Jack the Aussie bloke and Cal Crutchlow. And
then, and then... came a fourth bright and speeding
74 KIWI RIDER