Arrived here by mistake? Click here now to find out the real truth. Everything that has been bothering you over the years. The answers are here. Click NOW, before THEY arrive.
There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING better than cycling in the country.
Moving to the rural backlands after spending nearly a life time in the city was the best decision that we made...ever.
The only "pedestrians" you will find on one of the many gravel roads is an ostrich, or maybe a few cows or some donkeys. A vehicle will be seen now and again which can be a little donkey car, taking a relaxing roll over the red gravel, or a speeding pick-up truck making its way with a huge dustcloud over the road.
Then there are the unending fields. With the broad mountain bike tires slowly rolling over rocks and old stumps, while crashing the dry grass underneath.
The chirping of invisible birds and far off the moee of a hungry cow, while the wind blows gently pass your ears. The nearest sound is the delectable crunching of the gravel under the rubber tires of the bike. And the fresh air...
And after a day of endless riding the sun starts to set on the horizon. It turns the sky a moody orange, dangerous red and all hues of brown, while you stand in front of it all like a hero from the comic books.
And like a Percy Sledge of old you will say: "This is life, baby, can you dig it?"
Moving to the rural backlands after spending nearly a life time in the city was the best decision that we made...ever.
The only "pedestrians" you will find on one of the many gravel roads is an ostrich, or maybe a few cows or some donkeys. A vehicle will be seen now and again which can be a little donkey car, taking a relaxing roll over the red gravel, or a speeding pick-up truck making its way with a huge dustcloud over the road.
Then there are the unending fields. With the broad mountain bike tires slowly rolling over rocks and old stumps, while crashing the dry grass underneath.
The chirping of invisible birds and far off the moee of a hungry cow, while the wind blows gently pass your ears. The nearest sound is the delectable crunching of the gravel under the rubber tires of the bike. And the fresh air...
And after a day of endless riding the sun starts to set on the horizon. It turns the sky a moody orange, dangerous red and all hues of brown, while you stand in front of it all like a hero from the comic books.
And like a Percy Sledge of old you will say: "This is life, baby, can you dig it?"
