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Pedal Like The Wind

Dark clouds gather without warning. The gentle breeze quickens, the crackle of the dried maize stalks whispers malevolently. The whirr of wheels is drowned out by the rustling of leaves. The atmosphere grows claustrophobic, dense, stifling. Pushing on, pedalling faster. Outerwear retains the heat and creates its own microclimate. Pedal like the wind, escape the weather front. The first spots are exaggerated, oversized. Faster, but no match for the clouds sprinting towards you, alongside, over you. Incessant now, the deluge. Laughing now, what else is there to do? Hysterical in the face of the storm. No worries, we are waterproof.

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