I hear low hums on a regular basis and it takes a moment to distinguish between a chorus of ‘om’ from the yoga room downstairs and the sound of cars on the motorway, which is intriguing, although urban sprawl is in other ways ugly and worrying. I live in a serene retreat centre in the middle of a native bush, in what used to be the country but is now a creeping intrusion of spaghetti roads, mega stores and massive half-built apartments owned by China.
I still do not own a car and feel like I could not get by without my e-bike, because even the driveway is a long walk. But to go anywhere beyond the brand new local bus station is a mission. I cycled to work once and cars kept veering closer to me in my cycle lane. At one point I had to ring my bell frantically to be seen. My heart was pounding and I felt shaky, but the driver just looked tired and annoyed at the sound of my bell, perhaps only barely conscious in that moment that I was such a fragile human amongst rows of machines.
That said, I am living in a place in flux. I take the new off-road cycle lane to the right and I end up in a charming old country village, with an artist’s farm house open up as a gallery to passers-by as the artist herself tends to the flower boxes on the veranda; a tea house with antiques and china and a little shop with homemade pies.
I take a route to the left and I am in a concrete jungle. If I sneak around these roads at a time when drivers are less, and less in a hurry, I can make it to the beach in Devonport and be reminded of the chill of sea air while looking across the shore at the iconic Casino of Auckland that reaches to the sky. On the way back, as my battery is flat, I can fold up my E-Bike and put it on the bus that comes more regularly than typical of any other part of New Zealand.
There are little pockets of brand new cycling infrastructure that aim to lure in emerging cyclists, but they think of us as holograms that can appear from nowhere at the start of a shiny new cycle-way, and then disappear in the middle of the road when all signage and facility suddenly stops. My life as a mere mortal in a place for cars is pieced together by these moments of existence and impossibility.
undercoverlocal 