Convoy of no confidence

On Monday this week Canberrans were warned to batten down the hatches, to remain at home if possible, to avoid the massive gridlock that was anticipated to be the convoy of no confidence; a protest against the Gillard government in general, and the proposed carbon tax in particular.

It just so happened that on this particular Monday morning, I had an appoitment with my surgeon to double-check that I'm healing well after my operation, and to clear my return to life in general.  There is no chance that I was going to let a few thousand pesky trucks get in between me and that appointment. 

Monday morning arrived, I awoke to the dulcet tones of my alarm clock informing me "Time to get up.  The time is six am"  I roll out of bed, pleasantly surprised by the lack of icy Canberran winter chill.  I realise that aside from anything else, this Monday will be a great day for a bike ride.  I organise myself, saddling up the mountain bike, and double checking google maps for the main route to the hospital for my appointment, an alternate route, using back roads should the 10,000 strong convoy be blocking the bike lanes on the main roads, and a tertiary back-up consisting of using the cycleways and the odd bit of cross countrying.

I set out on my way, now up to chapter four of "The Satanic Verses" by Salman Rushdie.  I remember commenting at work, that into chapter one, I just didn't understand how this book was possibly worth the ire expressed by some of the muslim faith.  By chapter four, I understand.  The main character is having a trip down memory lane, and remembers a serious illness that put him into a coma.  He was in the coma for seven days.  During this time, he prayed to allah, begged, pleaded for his life to be saved.  On the seventh day, he came to the realisation that there is no god there, that there is nothing in that emptiness; and more importantly he came to the realisation that he could happily accept the lack of diety and face whatever consequences that caused with equamity.  It was once he made this realisation he awoke from the coma, and returned to health.    Once returned to health, he proceeded to the nearest resturant and stuffed his face with pork, bacon and sausages while exclaiming "See no lightning bolts!"

Oh, now I get it, I can see that could be a tad inflamatory to those who truly believe that you will instantly go to hell for eating a pig. 

After making this realisation while listening to my audio book, I started to notice something, or more particularly, the lack of something.  I quite honestly, have never seen a smoother run on the arterial roads of Canberra.  I cycled to the hospital on the main road, with even less than usual regular traffic.  I started counting trucks wherever I could spot them.  I saw four, on my way from my house to the hospital (just under 10km)  One of those trucks was a concrete truck travelling opposite direction to me.

I arrived in time for my appointment, and was happily informed by my surgeon that I'm healing well, and am cleared to do pushups like normal again; which is great as the one armed pushups were a real killer.  We shook hands, and although my surgeon is a talented, intelligent personable man, I scincerely hope to never need to see him again.

I re-mounted the bike, and pedalled the rest of the uneventful journey to the office.  I was so excited about the truck protest, and in a way disappointed that I didn't get the opportunity to use all of my excellent preparation.  The truck tally by the time I got to my office, was a total of thirteen trucks.... none of them driving in convoy.  Bit of an anti climax really.