__ and Whistles by Sophie Minissale
I’ve become a cyclist in recent months. I think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself, and I’ll forever preach to the unconverted. You see a lot of new sites on two wheels. New kinds of birds, street art, ways to hang clothes on a washing line. There is one thing, however, that I always look forward to seeing on a weekend ride. That is, if I choose to cycle by the Swan River, I am fated to ride by The Cyclist who puts two UE Booms on his bike where his water bottles should go.
The Cyclist is tall and he is fast, donned in laddery bib shorts and a fraying jersey. His shoulders are low to the handlebars. He is thin, older, skin not yet leathery. His eyes unseeable under the crow-like sunglasses. Slicked back under his helmet you can find shoulder length hair - silver - to match the frame of his bike. There’s only so much of his appearance you can catch, he comes by as quickly as he goes. A rush of wind as he passes you, on and on down the great blue foreshore, past the rock fishermen and the outstretched herons.
For the purposes of this music review publication, I will talk about the music. It’s always EDM, verging on, if not already, a royalty free flavour. Non-descript, predictable, forgettable. It’s played loudly through the speaker and has the bpm of a greyhound walking on hot sand. It might be the kind of music they play in the gym your co-worker frequents on her lunch break. Practical, if nothing else. The two UE Booms are synced together for maximum volume and have moving rainbow lights inside them, in a way that reminds me of an ‘OPEN’ sign outside a kebab shop. The music thumps to the meter of his pedalling - ‘clipped in’ and courageous.
If I’m to be charitable in my thinking, I imagine it’s a safety thing. Better to be heard coming (and leaving) with no mistake than to risk a painful clash of chain and spoke in front of the ferry patrons. Or maybe, it’s an invitation for his new open-air spin class. Is it a beacon for a lost connection? Might there be another cyclist, somewhere, playing the same music in the hopes to reconnect? Could the vibrations from the speakers be gently encouraging him to pedal faster, on a frequency we can’t understand? Maybe, as he crosses the Narrows Bridge, he believes he is bringing the Kings Park Lightscape to the people.
I often wonder though, doesn’t he get thirsty? I don’t know how you can ride at top speeds around the river and not need to reach for a drink. He can’t stop at every water fountain, it’s too impractical with his clip-on shoes, and I have checked and can confirm that there are no water bottles on any part of his bike. There isn’t much at all. It’s just him and the Booms.
I have no business owning a bike much better than what I have now, which is to say, I’m in no position to catch up to him and ask. Maybe when I get to that stage and I’m in a bike shop, ready to commit to a new set of wheels, I’ll think of The Cyclist. I might even buy him a bell.