The Prolific Predator, feared by carbon bikers

Pacman had caught the cassette hub hiccup like His sister before Him. I am worried like any concerned single parent would (sorry I’m throwing that in). Khuram Khan and I have tried as well to revive Spontaneous because Her sister, Human, has developed the same hiccup as well. I, the unorthodox bike doctor, need at most and least two days to sought this issue out. So I promised Robin that Batman will be back with answers and a solid solution. I went to open SGB Shop after the afternoon showers hit the CBD. Apparently, it hit more in Ziwani. Gratefully though, the after sun’s heat warmed off the wet mud, prepping the ground for my cycling students: Ziwani’s children. The fun of mentoring future ‘wafinyis’, is second to few. It brings great joy in shaping untapped cycling talents. Closing the day’s business at 6:25pm, I and Dopemaster had to spin like our future depended on the dusk’s moment. Jetting towards the U-turn to Juja Road, the empty road trailing into Downtown Nairobi was ghostly. The skyscrapers graced the cloudy patched sunset horizon like giraffes molded out of glass and stone. Zooming up North with the city at my back, I could see the small fires of yellow sky igniting the cloud blanket gathering up a storm towards Narok. Up the overpass and dropping fast into Forest Road, the Western headwinds just could not give us a chance to enjoy zooming upwards. What did Charles Mbugua Ngumi say? Every wind is a potential tailwind. Well, not in my case, its like there are wind demons frustrating me from all corners of the world. Nonetheless, Dopey and I shall sprint forth, for none can beat a determined Raleigh. On the overpass connecting to Chiromo Road, we were bending that right corner superfast with this black Subaru, maintained the same pace till we were 50 meters from the highway as the driver gassed away into the dimming day.

Its 6:47pm and Westlands is 180 meters away. The stages this time were empty, just the presence of drunk foul mouths with no sign of a presence of a cerebral in between their eardrums. Alias, nduthi gang, how much hate I have for them. Few are good though but the rest deserve a boot up their bums. There was a lone pedestrian at the base of Safaricom Hill as I steadily galloped up the 170 meter long climb. Aga Khan Stretch looked like a glass tunnel of hope, hope of making it before the quarantine cops show up and set up shop. By 6:57pm, we zoomed past James Gichuru Road. About 20 minutes at most to reach home, I switched on the Big Gun to constant light blast to accompany Dopey’s backup light capsule. No bicyclists for Predator to prey on, He just went on, enjoying the bliss of an open major highway. That was until two pedestrians were on sight walking down the dilapidated shoulder. One of them was on Dopemaster’s path and he just kept walking as we kept coming fast. A vehicle’s headlight was already shining 70 meters behind us. Without my trusted whistle nearby, I tilted right and nearly ripped his shirt, the trailing vehicle passed on seconds later. These are another group of road users I have no love for: city walkers/ pedestrians. They behave like they made the roads; such demons should stay far away from bicycle users. We soldier on despite the near mishap. Now onto the section of Waiyaki Way that I hate the most, where human excrement forces me up the rise to Total Kangemi. There it was, sliding down the tilting highway like a huge slimy slug (yieeeiish); I had no choice. So up the rise and across the bridge, we went down the slip road and up the wrong side of the road to cross into the rough U-turn to get back to track. I love the Kangemi-Kabete Stretch for its wideness. What I hate is that it habors the reckless nduthi guys coming down the stretch, I met four of them wanting to blind my eyes as always. I had had enough this time round so I did what that lady cyclist did to president Trump’s motorcade: I flipped the bird and I let them see it.”That’s what you get for not making my rides enjoyable.”

There was some luck for some last minute fun when we found two Latemas and a Star Bus on the rough section at Kabete Poly’s entrance. A chance to breathe fire, I chased after the second Latema. Just as I was enjoying the appetizing pain cave, Dopey’s left pedal started getting stuck within its steel balls, a sign than He needs a new pedal, same with Tourist, same left pedal. Damn, it discouraged me enough to watch the chasing Star Bus overtake me and gathering speed. Away it went so I chased harder and caught it at the bumps before disappearing down ILIR Climb behind this nduthi guy carrying a lady. Now if you do not believe in the power of a bicycle, Dopemaster just proved how brutal He can be on a drop on free fall. The nduthi guy was gassing in small bits but Dopemaster kept dropping faster and faster like Antony Kuria alias B2Bomber. He reached the fikifiki at 50kph and kept dropping like an asteroid towards earth (Gathondeki). Fast on the speed bumps (rrrrrrrrrrppppd) at 53kph, the fun had to end as the turning point was closer in a matter of nanoseconds. Performing my usual offroad patrol like a black knight on a black stallion, Dopey and I arrived by 7:16pm. Safe and sound under purple gases hundreds of meters above my roof, Pacman can rest but rest easy once I change His faulty left pedal.

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