Cold pursuit

Life is full of coincidences.  Yesterday I found myself reflecting back on the early days when Tony and I first became more involved than being just mere best mates.  Reflecting on the time period when we were between being best mates and then becoming intense sweethearts.

Then later in the day when on my PC checking emails and Facebook I noted this post in Facebook that Tony’s niece has put up. 

                             

The two occurrences, my reflections earlier in the day, and the posting had close, uncanny links.

It was yesterday morning when I was driving along Auckland’s waterfront that I passed a cyclist who for one nano-second looked very much like Tony.  Thank goodness it was only a nano-second as when I took a second look realised this person was nothing like Tony at all, it was actually the cycling gear he was wearing that made me think it was Tony.

In those long ago days Tony’s wardrobe was less that attractive with his cycling and sporting wardrobe looking more like leftovers from Steptoe’s throw outs and yesterday’s cyclist must have delved into Tony’s  box of Steptoe’s leftover clothes as the cycle attire he was in so reminded me of Tony in the pre-Verna days.    

                                   

I chuckled to myself over the comparison between this cyclist and Tony as it did take me back some twenty plus years ago and reminded me of a cycle ride Tony took in those early days of our ‘romantic’ courtship when, to his mind, love would conquer everything, even hypothermia.

Tony and I had been friends, enemies, then best friends over a ten year period prior to our becoming romantically involved.  Once romance entered into our relationship it seemed to put a whole new drive and incentive for Tony to ensure that he never let any opportunity for us to be together be determined by outside influences.

I was to spend a weekend in Thames with friends one cold and wet September weekend, a weekend that Tony felt he could not let pass without being in my company.  At that point in time he was a solo father to his two sons but that particular weekend both his boys were staying over at their mother’s home thus leaving Tony totally solo at their home.  For some reason Tony’s car was out of order and between his being on his own, with his near new sweetheart in Thames and his sons away for two nights, he could not bear the idea of not making the most of this free and available solo time and not being able to spend it with moi.

But with no car and me being a long way away it would seem very much in the too hard basket to fathom how he could make the distance between us closer.  Well, Tony, being Tony, and resourceful as any tom cat on heat, he decided he would cycle his way down to the Thames coast to be with the lady who had been absorbed into his love struck heart. 

He telephoned me the night before to let me know of his intention to cycle to where I was  – it must be recalled that cell phones were not the norm in those days – and despite my misgivings about the weather forecast being foreboding, he insisted that weather was not an obstacle in his pursuance of me, where ever I may be, so I was not to fret and he would leave in the early hours and should arrive at my door around lunch time.

I recall being somewhat bemused and somewhat flattered that someone would even contemplate going to such lengths to seek my company.  After all, I was staying with elderly friends and any concept of weekend consummation would certainly not be in order that weekend, which he clearly knew as well.  Hence the feeling of flattery on my part as he was going to all that trouble for only my company, and not any fringe benefits.  How could one not be flattered!

It turned out that the following morning was a horrid, wet morning.  A cold Septembers day with a high level of wind chill factor.  And it would be a morning that Tony’s tom cat drive would almost be his undoing as his usual good planning and preparation for such a major undertaking on a bicycle had gone out the door as quickly as he did that morning.

 

Tony set off on his bicycle in the morning dark and in the morning rain and headed south along the Great South Road, through the southern suburbs of Manukau, through Drury, Ramarama and over the Bombay Hills.  In the wet, in the cold.  With very little on:  cycling shorts, a cycle shirt, a thin rain parker and little else. 

There is a truckers café along State Highway 27, The Pink Pig.  At some time during mid morning the two ladies who owned and ran The Pink Pig looked up from their food counter as the café door opened and saw one small, very wet, very shivering, very numbed, very blue cyclist clod, clod across their café floor in his cycle shoes, wet thin clothes and little else.  This wet, sodden man, lips gone blue with cold, dropping pools of water onto the floor at each step, stopped and stood shivering at the counter front and attempted to stammer out some incoherent words.  After several attempts at being understood this man eventually had the two ladies realise this sad and wet little man in front of them was imploring them for a cup of hot tea.  But he then followed that request up by telling them he had no money.

Tony had left his home in Mt Eden, with a back pack on his back with spare clothes which had become totally sodden as the back pack was not waterproof, thus meaning they were impotent items of clothing that could help warm his body up; and he had packed or taken no spare food and more importantly, no money. 

Fortunately the cold, wet and hypothermic cyclist happened to arrive at the only café along the many miles of Highway 27 that had two compassionate, middle aged women who took the poor soul to one side, gave him a towel to dry himself, hot cups of tea and even a hot meat pie on his promise that he would return another day to repay them for their financial loss.

With no way of being able to contact me where ever I was in Thames – he had not taken my phone number with him either – his only real thought was to get his body out of its hypothermic state before he could actually remount his trusty, purple Vitas bicycle and continue on his way to seek out his sweetheart.  Problem was that two hours later he was still shivering and in no fit state to rely on his bicycle to get him to his destination, and it was still raining.

In the meantime, back down in Thames, the lunch time hour eventually passed and there was no sign of any cyclist heading down the road towards her temporary place of residence, and she was becoming worried.

Some three hours after he first clod, clod, clod through the café door, the rain had stopped, his body had returned to normal temperature, he had downed many more cups of free tea, one more meat pie, a sausage roll and a big, sticky bun, all of which had turned this half dead zombie back to a real, warm blooded man and he was ready to head out into the world and continue on with his crusade to sit beside his future wife.

She, in the meantime, decided it was time to go, seek and find for fear of something dreadful having happened to this suitor who had shown no hesitancy in this opportunity of his to spend time with her.

He mounted his bike and headed south.  She got in her car and headed north to seek him out.

Forty-five minutes later she arrived at the bottom of the Bombay Hills, fretting greatly and totally unaware of where her male pursuer was;  and he was heading merrily in the other direction toward the Thames coast, happily filled to the brim with tea, pie, sausage rolls and sticky buns.  They had clearly missed one another in their quest to find one another.

Over two hours later, fraught with stress over what could possibly have happened to him, and planning to call out all emergency services, she returned to her temporary accommodation in Thames.  As she pulled into the driveway she looks up at the home of her friends to see the said suitor sitting on the front terrace of the house, sipping tea and eating chocolate biscuits.  He had arrived some thirty minutes earlier, met her host and hostess,  been given warm towels, a hot shower and the loan of clean, dry clothes,  and now imbibing on yet another cup of hot tea with chocolate biscuits.

Needless to say, the relief at seeing him overcame any previous questions she had in her mind as to whether this man’s intentions towards her were frivolous, ambivalent or doubtful.  There was no doubt she had before her one special person who would go to great lengths to be in her company.  This was certainly going to be one very special relationship.

It was Tony’s niece in England who coincidentally posted the saying above.  I have no idea why Helen would have posted the piece but am sure she would like to know the coincidental timing of her posting and how it relates to her uncle. 

I know - The right man will pursue you.  Actively.  He won’t leave you wondering whether he’s into you or not.