My Munchkin, always a showstopper

An awesome Sunday morning, the cycling baton has been handed over to The Tsibektican. Her big brother needs the rest He deserves and He has entrusted His badass sister to enforce the Gathondeki Cycling Policy: Ride or ride harder. Her first test was climbing Gathondeki Hill. I’m heavy at the back with my Maui bag carrying many more tools for the job 16kms away, I off-saddled for 900 meters to the top from the Gathondeki speed bumps. As I rode on Uthiru roundabout, some boy waved for me to stop. I wish I did not for I was ready to zoom up Kapenguria Road. The boy was inquiring about an aluminium rim but he was not coming out clearly. I later found out it was for a friend he wanted to extort money from, talk about hard times on already harder times. W agreed to meet in the evening, a thing I chose not to for I hate business after work; I need my alone time alone. So back to racing up the road and down the slip road, A104 was looking great for quick paces and increased cadence. Munchkin was cutting the slight headwind like a razor blade. My hands firm on the Spider Side Bars, my feet rotation like a turbocharger and Baby Bee zooming with precise execution of speed past Kangemi.

Clear on Waruku drop, the conductor of the standby Latema acted as if he wanted to cross the highway just as Munchkin and I were whooshing through. Such is the stupidity of many Kenyan men today, Corona has turned them into brainless beings and I have to deal with such disgust whenever I cruise through populated areas. No matter, I always fly away on chartered planes without spending a dime and today, Miss Madilu is my G5 jet. I take command of the slow lane so that Tsibektican’s tyres can roar above the arrow markings before Ngujuna’s. Along Aga Khan Stretch at 51kph to descend down Safaricom Hill at 57kph, I shouted a rebel’s cry just as this nduthi guy passed my right at 60kph. His passenger looked back and gave me an awesome thumb up. That was enough motivation to pedal forward. A white Nissan with a yellow lady at the co-driver’s seat passed. She looked with a silent disbelief; my disbelief was how her appearance was strikingly similar to Nairobi’s Women Representative Esther Passaris. Could it be her? Only the driver knows. Zooming past Westlands and dropping fast, there was a dirt water spill at the left bend to Museum Hill. My TUTOIS do ride on such, I took command of the middle lane and pedaled as fast I could, speeds clocking 53kph. Onto Uhuru Highway and using the drop momentum to my advantage, I was able to complete the section in 90 seconds flat. On dropping down to Murang’a Road roundabout, a gold brown Prado was tailgating me, passed me then tried to box me on the corner. I shouted at the driver to hold back his horse then thanked him as Miss Madilu zoomed away, passing three cars slow on the right lane.

This is our detour before we head to the shop; we are at Khuram Khan’s residence to resurrect his Giant road bike, named Spontaneous. Khuram is one funny chap, you can never get short of instant laughs. Before I knew it, it was 2pm, but alas Spontaneous was alive. I love bring back cycling hopes wherever I go. With that mission accomplished, we whisked away to Ziwani to build some more cycling hopes in Ziwani. I could not wait for the evening.



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