Follow the yellowed bike road

  
I love it when the city rises from its sleep, flicks on a lamp, stretches its arms. The view from the loft showed promise.

No gloves. Never learn. Everything crystalline in appearance, sparkling like the contents of Aladdin’s cave. Worth the frozen digits though. To feel the conditions is to experience life without barriers.

Tarmac rolls beneath. I can’t hear the traffic, even though it’s all around. Winter grandeur drowns it out.

That arrow. There. Dead ahead. It offers the finest advice that sodden South Wales has to offer; take it now. Ride into the distance. Head for the sun. Follow the yellowed bike road.

  

At last…..glorious cycling conditions.

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