Saturday 5 November 2011

It's dark out there ...

Monday evening, 5.20pm: The clocks have gone back and my commute home has changed from pale grey to squid ink black.

It wasn't so noticeable getting out of Apsley and Boxmoor, with enough ambient light to see the holes in the road by, but as the old A41 twists upwards from the Complete Outdoors to the church on the corner of Little Heath Lane it's like being plunged into tar. There's a crest of a hill here and beyond that a void where the road pitches down onto the flat, half mile run to the gates of Berkhamsted.

The speed limit changes from 30 to 60mph too, so the unlit road ahead might as well be the Mulsanne Straight at two in the morning. As I roll up to the crest, silhouetted by headlights, all I can hear is engines shifting down as drivers prepare to punch through the next 500 yards as quickly as they possibly can.

'Scary' is the word I would use, or 'fucking scary' if I'm allowed two words, because although I'm lit up like a christmas tree there's a nagging feeling in the middle of my back that someone in too much hurry is going to to make a mess of things.

I don't mind riding in the dark usually, but it's the way this bit of road twists and surges up towards the blackness that unnerves me.

Wish me luck.

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