I do so enjoy just being out about town on my bike. Mine is a sprawling, car dependent city, where going for a walk down the main street might see you pass no more than a few dozen people. Well you might think that’s sufficient, for your daily fix of interaction, but if you were as discerning as I am, about who you will talk to, you need to be passing hundreds, or thousands. When I lived in New York, I had to walk along Broadway, and in Singapore, it was Orchard Road. I want to be out there having casual exchanges with that 0.001% of all people, who are semi interesting. Seen in those terms, 10 blocks along Broadway, equals a 50 square kilometre zone, in a shit hole like this one. And thus I ride.
I’m not complaining. Monday afternoon, I happened upon a cafe in an industrial area, with a view of a warehouse. A slither of Williamsburg hipster culture dropped into Newcastle, just waiting for our fixie brigade to discover them. Come on you guys with tight jeans and cool quiffs: they serve double ristrettos when you ask for espressos. The dude surfs and the girl should be a model. No one, but no one, knows where it is. It is right next to old train tracks. What more could you possibly ask for?