The Morning the Car Wouldn't Start . . .

LUKY:
YEARS AGO ONE MORNING THE CAR WOULDN'T START, so I came to work on my bicycle.
There is something about an ample 40-year-old matron on a bicycle that appeals to the South African sense of humour and gives rise to many funny comments.
I can never see what the fun's all about; where I come from even the Queen rode a bicycle, and we all liked her that little better for it.
All you need to drive even a Rolls Royce is a driver's licence, but to ride a bike you need strength, good health and perseverance.

On and on
The distance from my house to the job measured about ten kilometres, but to one as unfit as I, it seemed an endless journey.
Fortunately the weather was kind, with just a breeze to keep me cool without holding me back.
You meet some characters on the road. I do feel that we who drive cars are insulated from real life.
One jester went so far as to drive up right beside me and yell "Yahoo!" into my ear, in the hope, presumably, of scaring me into falling off my bike.

But I've cycled since I was eight, and didn't turn a hair. On the contrary, I froze and assumed what I hoped to be a dignified expression, then made the biggest sign of the cross of my life.
The driver couldn't see me, but I hoped the half dozen or so passengers on the back of his bakkie told him about it later. It certainly wiped the grin off their faces.

Top of the Bridge
When I got to the top of the bridge, having had to walk the previous half, I got on to my bicycle and went soaring down all the way to the stop street at the end of it. It was like being at the show, and all for nothing too.
"Jy gaan val!" somebody yelled, and casting dignity to the wind I yelled back: "Hoekom?" as I flew past. Lovely!

I used to start work at seven thirty in the morning, so I missed the early traffic rush, since most people began at eight.
When I arrived at work the staff took a good look at me. Some of them had passed me on the road, but hadn't hooted for fear they might frighten me into riding into the ditch. I must say I appreciated their restraint.

I never minded
"Never mind, Luky", one girl said consolingly, "I wish I had a bicycle, then I'd ride to work too."
"Never mind what?" I asked, "I've seldom enjoyed myself so much."
The day before as I looked through my office window I saw one of my male colleagues cantering off casually on a horse, and I stared at him all the way until he left the premises.
As he walked into my office the morning of my bicycle ride I congratulated him.
"You certainly know how to ride a horse!"
"I used to", he replied ruefully, rubbing the back of his shoulders. "I seem to have got out of practice a little. I can feel this morning that I rode a horse yesterday."
Speaking for myself, I still felt like a million dollars. But I had a sneaking suspicion that by the next day, I would be feeling that I had been riding a bike the day before.

Catherine Nicolette
Ah, travel.  I have enjoyed watching many friends from different countries getting from A to B in manners which can only be described as enterprising.
Donkey carts in South Africa.
A shopping trolley in the Free State some lads were busy wiring an engine on; I don't think it worked.
Wooden boxes with wired wheels and thick string reins coasted to the top of the Free State farm roads. Then pushed from behind; thundering down the track with their drivers shrieking and more often than not landing in an undignified heap at the bottom in the veldt, thornbushes and sometimes mis.

Carriages trotting by
The loveliness of Dublin; carriages trotting by at a brisk pace drawn by beautiful horses blinkered, their glorious coats shining in the sun. 
The sheer fun of a large group of people solemnly peddling a bicycle car down O'Connell Street. 
The enjoyment of passersby as an adapted train sails by on the road, nonchalant tourists draping their arms over the backs of their seats. 
The enthusiastic roar of the Viking Splash tours, where an amphibious car goes by, its occupants wearing imaginatively adorned Viking helmets. 
The River Liffey boat graciously bearing down the River past seagulls bobbing on the water, and looking with beady and interested eyes through the boat windows.

Joy to meet
The grace of London, with the big double decker buses and the strolling passersby always ready to give directions to bewildered visitors. 
The sophistication of France; the bustle of Rome; the beauty of Zimbabwe, the dignity of Israel. All have such beautiful ways of travel, and the people in each country are a joy to meet.

Beautiful India
And India; Beautiful India. Strolling down the main street in a town, seeing an elephant - his two drivers relaxing in a box on his back - slowing his brisk walk when the traffic lights turned from amber to red. Then his leisurely amble while waiting for the lights to turn green; upon which he picked up speed to take the turn for the road to the Temple in the next town.
What about the baby elephant being petted by the children, his mom proudly looking on; the children had plaited the baby's forelock and entwined jasmine in the plait, and lined her eyes with kohl.

Bridegroom's Party
The memory of a bridegroom's party making their way to the Temple. 
The magnificently turbanned groom being carried to the Ceremony, the other members of the party laughing and dancing around him.Two little children in magnificent clothing with shimmering turbans and waist sashes laughing down at me as they swept by on large camels on their way to the Temple.

Mode of Transport
What can be greater pleasure than to watch others' mode of transport?
In my opinion, nothing.
And while I'm remembering so many creative ways to travel, I will never forget the soccer game held next to the sunflower fields by some enterprising Afrikaans lads in the Free State.
They had trained their two pet ostriches - both well known among the farmers for their uneven tempers and ferocious kicks - to race around kicking a football, while they clung to their long necks, whooping for all they were worth . . .