GEORGE BENNETT

JUMBO VISMA

The New Zealand road is rough. It’s an angular chip held together by sticky tar that turns to soup every time the sun comes out and chews the bottom of your frame to pieces. I’ve spent hours pondering why kiwi roads are so bad. It’s not protection against the weather and I thought it might be a durability thing, but they seem to chuck a layer of rocks on every few months. But occasionally crashing on what amounts to a human cheese grater is not the worst aspect.

Cycling is a growing sport in New Zealand, yet we remain very polarised about cyclists. Our issues come in two forms; awareness issues or attitude problems. It’s not ingrained in kiwis to look for cyclists before we turn, open a car door or overtake. The second, far scarier, issue is attitude. Bogans shaving past me to teach me a lesson. The irony is obviously lost on them that driving their sh*tty Ford Falcon as close as they can to me to show me what I’m doing is dangerous makes it 10,000 times more dangerous in the process.

We have to concede that we can’t just blame drivers. When I see a rogue group ride out, being dicks, not letting cars past and being generally unruly, I cringe. It’s easy to see how a large part of the anti-cycling attitude is formed. At times, I can even sympathise with some of it. The fallout from the refusal to ride single file at times is copped by the majority of respectful cyclists.

I’ve gone off piste. I intended to talk about life in New Zealand and how far away it is from the circus of European cycling. Next time I’ll have some racing to talk about. For now, I can revel in a change of scenery, road surface and riding in Andorra.