[Andre Jute]

On Sep 28, 5:50 am, Patrick Turner wrote:
Andre Jute wrote:

I am bored ****less with giving copyright tutorials. And I am in a
foul mood after a spill that caused hundreds of Euro worth of damage
to a favourite bike and, worse, I was so occupied making a judo roll
over my forearm to save my new helmet and mirror (and my head) that I
didn't even get the stupid driver's car number plate, never mind put
him in hospital and total his car for attempting to murder me. Nothing
wrong with me, thanks for asking, except a few bruises -- as I was
lying on the tarmacadam, watching other drivers screech to a halt and
run towards me, the bike fell out of the fence where it lodged, right
onto my little finger, which is now all swollen; these big touring
bikes I like weigh 20-22kg with just daily luggage and tools on them.
Even worse, no one else got the jerk's number, including those who
volunteered that I should report him to the police. Oh well, it is
good to know the old reflexes still work; I don't fancy concussion or
a broken neck.

You have just very eloquently proven a wondrous
and irrefutable fact about life. The fact is, in the immortal words of
the not unknown sage...

"" **** Happens ""

I do apologise for any inconvenience to publishers of the above
quotation,
caused by my untimely recalcitrance, and plead their mercy in regard to
copywrite of afforesaid briefly quoted wisdoms out of others amoung
those contained in a not unknown book,
" Irish Cyclist's Handbook", 4thEd, 1937, mainly because Sean Maweely is
still alive
as an assistant author to the co author, now 98, and in one of Dublin's
well known retirement villages.

That must be some kind of phonetic Australian spelling, Patrick. When
I interviewed Sean a few years ago, he pretended not to hear me but
promptly spelt his name when my pretty young researcher asked him. It
is O'Mearilly, pronounced Oh-muhr-wheelly.

It is quite a relief to have got out of bed this morning, and not to
have found myself
lamenting in Purgatory after cycling 70km just this last wednesday.

Yesterday I came out onto the street to find a neighbour talking to a
guy who rides with me, another sometime international athlete; He was
bragging to the neighbour that we rode *22" kilometers. It must be
very flat where you ride 70km.

Whilst on a lovely spring day and dreamy cycle meander around an almost
traffic-less outer suburb, I came to a roundabout
where a following truck reached me and overtook at the round about,
squeezing me perilously close to the kerb.
But because of my quick reflexes,
I was able to lean into the curve, out of the way of the jutting truck
tray while over hanging the kerb
in a graceful sweep, with only millimetres to spare.

Quick reflexes my arse. More likely a youth misspent on motorbikes.

This leads to my deduction from the "First Principle of Wisdom" quoted
above...

"Some **** Nearly Happens"

Henceforth known as Turner's Corollary to Murphy's Second Law (****
happens).

Andre Jute

[Patrick Turner]

Andre Jute wrote:

On Sep 28, 5:50 am, Patrick Turner wrote:
Andre Jute wrote:

I am bored ****less with giving copyright tutorials. And I am in a
foul mood after a spill that caused hundreds of Euro worth of damage
to a favourite bike and, worse, I was so occupied making a judo roll
over my forearm to save my new helmet and mirror (and my head) that I
didn't even get the stupid driver's car number plate, never mind put
him in hospital and total his car for attempting to murder me. Nothing
wrong with me, thanks for asking, except a few bruises -- as I was
lying on the tarmacadam, watching other drivers screech to a halt and
run towards me, the bike fell out of the fence where it lodged, right
onto my little finger, which is now all swollen; these big touring
bikes I like weigh 20-22kg with just daily luggage and tools on them.
Even worse, no one else got the jerk's number, including those who
volunteered that I should report him to the police. Oh well, it is
good to know the old reflexes still work; I don't fancy concussion or
a broken neck.

You have just very eloquently proven a wondrous
and irrefutable fact about life. The fact is, in the immortal words of
the not unknown sage...

"" **** Happens ""

I do apologise for any inconvenience to publishers of the above
quotation,
caused by my untimely recalcitrance, and plead their mercy in regard to
copywrite of afforesaid briefly quoted wisdoms out of others amoung
those contained in a not unknown book,
" Irish Cyclist's Handbook", 4thEd, 1937, mainly because Sean Maweely is
still alive
as an assistant author to the co author, now 98, and in one of Dublin's
well known retirement villages.

That must be some kind of phonetic Australian spelling, Patrick.

Oh indeed yes, and its becaue astrayans are always taling on their
phones....

When
I interviewed Sean a few years ago, he pretended not to hear me but
promptly spelt his name when my pretty young researcher asked him. It
is O'Mearilly, pronounced Oh-muhr-wheelly.

Ah, it all makes centz now...

It is quite a relief to have got out of bed this morning, and not to
have found myself
lamenting in Purgatory after cycling 70km just this last wednesday.

Yesterday I came out onto the street to find a neighbour talking to a
guy who rides with me, another sometime international athlete; He was
bragging to the neighbour that we rode *22" kilometers. It must be
very flat where you ride 70km.

Not really, plenty of mild inclines though, and I often do 100km way
across town and back,
sometimes including Mt Stromlo, which has 200M rise for its 3.6km length
from the base.
I manage ok with a single speed bike with a 67" gear, 44 x 18 cogs.
I did have 48 x 18 some 15 years ago, but find its too hard to push at
60.

I am slowly repairing a bike with gears, and restoring another....

Whilst on a lovely spring day and dreamy cycle meander around an almost
traffic-less outer suburb, I came to a roundabout
where a following truck reached me and overtook at the round about,
squeezing me perilously close to the kerb.
But because of my quick reflexes,
I was able to lean into the curve, out of the way of the jutting truck
tray while over hanging the kerb
in a graceful sweep, with only millimetres to spare.

Quick reflexes my arse. More likely a youth misspent on motorbikes.

Maybe; I clocked about 200,000 miles on m'bikes; 100,000 just on a BMW
R/75.

You can rely on two wheeled transport to always give you the occasional
good frightener.


This leads to my deduction from the "First Principle of Wisdom" quoted
above...

"Some **** Nearly Happens"

Henceforth known as Turner's Corollary to Murphy's Second Law (****
happens).

Ah Murphy, a moighty foin fella now. W'ed not have a clue wha we were
going
without him. But he built railways, and its was a foin answer the
getting lorst on the rood.
At least you know where the fookin tracks end up.

Patrick Turner.

Andre Jute