Got the e-bike brake fixed up on Saturday. Well, all fixed except the bit where it didn’t actually do what a brake is meant to do – you know, actually brake.

The brake works now because I fixed it tonight all on my own for the first time ever. Hopefully it holds up tomorrow and I haven’t completely stuffed it. Some people are good at bicycle mechanics; others are good at sociology. I fall into the latter category.

But the brakes didn’t work this morning. This became a problem when the …


I swear there were a hundred of them. Or there could’ve been two. Maybe just the one. But he was everywhere. Evil.

I pulled up at an intersection at Tarringindi where I am required to stop and look to the right and left and right again before crossing the road. It’s a busy road. The bugger swooped me right there and then and I was forced to stop to give way to traffic. I was stuck. A pedestrian walking a dog laughed (rather cruel reaction really) while I cursed and death-stared the little bugger. I looked straight up at him so he wouldn’t swoop me.

And he didn’t.

Until the traffic cleared!

When the traffic cleared I made a dash across the road and then he got me right on the ear. And it hurt and burned and I was convinced I would have blood running down my face as a result. I knew he would come back for me for another go and my irrational brain told me I had to flee as quickly as possible despite the odds of him making contact again were minimal.

This emotive (panicked!!!) response saw me madly trying to get off the road and into the park through one of those ‘safety’ rails that are meant to slow cyclists down when entering traffic (but actually inhibit cyclists actually cycling safety away from magpies). I swerved and skidded and almost toppled.

My brakes were pathetic! I almost went straight into the ‘safety’ rail, but didn’t and kept riding. Fast.

I wrote as fast as my little legs could carry me. Past a mother with pram. Past kids swinging in the park. I cycled at least 100 metres, entered another intersection – and another magpie swooped me! The same magpie? A new magpie? I really don’t know. All I know is that the swearing was loud and much harsher than my earlier cussing. So loud an older woman walking her dog stopped and kindly said ‘Oooh are the magpies still going are they?’ and me yelling ‘Yeah I thought it was all over!’

And then I made a dash across the super busy road that you’re not meant to dash across (it actually says ‘cyclists must dismount’). Pffft yeah right.

I cycled peacefully the rest of the way. As peaceful as it gets when you jump at every sparrow darting by. I checked my ear. It wasn’t bleeding. It did burst a few veins though. Ow.

I am not cycling that way for another two weeks. I heard you loud and clear Mister Magpie. I’m keeping out of your territory.

I was swooped 20 plus times during magpie season. This one clearly has late breeder syndrome. His masculinity is challenged and he’s out for murder. My blood will remain mine Mister Magpie! Mine!

P.S. I don’t wish you any ill will and I hope your babies live long and prosper.

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