Nature by the numbers. Prime numbers. Wait till I tell you this, it'll blow you away.

I'm not sure if this will have anything to do with bikes or not. I've not decided yet. I don't decide in advance what to write, I just write the thoughts that come into my head as they come into my head.

Part of this, I suppose, is laziness and sloppiness on my part. I've thought about this and, in a way, that would be right.

Part of it is to try and help you to see the world through the eyes of somebody like me. Yes, all these thoughts do fly into my head that quick. Yes, I can go from quantum physics to philosophy in a gnats heartbeat. If I planned it all out in advance, then it would be less - well - less authentic if you follow me. This is not some carefully-crafted movie plot with a guaranteed happy ending. It's just a day-by-day meandering of stuff.

But it will have a happy ending, and that will be in Beijing. Will that be the end? Or, as Winston Churchill put it:

"This is not the end. This is not the beginning of the end. But it is the end of the beginning".

I don't have a clue, but I know I'm getting to Beijing with Martin and my ITM. And I know that I'm going to have a job convincing my ITM to go with me if I'm on a bike that isn't orange. Speaking of which, Martin looked absolutely gutted the other day when I said to him:

"Martin, I know you're getting old and stuff but you've got to get me more power on the little PR3. I need 250cc minimum to even enter the race. Then again, maybe my next bike will just be blue and white".

By "blue and white" I am, of course, talking about the new BMW 450X due out in October:


That, right there, is pornography. Look at those curves. Look at the slim figure, and the inviting pout. A 450cc, fuel-injected sex object with Marzocchi forks.

OK, I just realised, it's about bikes. I know, I need therapy.

So you're probably wondering how today went. Well, it's not a "No". Which means that it's still a potential "Yes". More accurately, it's a "too busy to read it right now", but that's still not a "No".
Couple of young journalists back in the 70's thought that they smelled a story. The reason why they smelled a story was because of what is called a "non denial denial". They asked:

"Did you channel slush funds from the committee to re-elect the President?"

and they were given the answer along the lines of:

"All of the funds in the committee have been properly accounted for".

They spotted it. What followed was a single sentence that changed the world:

"That's not a denial".

The two journalists were Woodward and Bernstein, and their spotting of the "non denial denial" brought down Nixon.

And, since we're talking about Presidents and temptresses and the yearning that a man can suffer, I already know what my BMW 450 will be called:

Monica.

Think about it.

So, anyway, "too busy too read" means any one of the following:

1. Too busy too read
   
2. I don't have the balls to decide, it's going upstairs
   
3. I dont have the balls to decide, I'm delegating it downstairs to somebody with balls
   
4. Haven't decided yet
   
5. Yes, but need permission
   
6. Fuck, I haven't read it yet. You're a persistent little sod aren't you?

My Ma always told me that I read too much into things. That's probably true, but I also have this amazing sense of when somebody is not telling me exactly what they are thinking. I will keep you posted. But I know, for a fact, that "too busy to read" doesn't mean "too busy to read".

Recently, a very very good friend of mine had had enough of the bullying culture going on at his work. He had had enough of the "we make mistakes and the blame you to cover out arses" stuff going on. He told them what they needed to be told. He told them in no uncertain terms. He told them loudly, and using lots of words that your granny would have a heart attack if she heard being said. He got suspended on full pay, pending investigation.

We went to work. We wrote letters and statements and stuff like that. I thought the whole thing through, 40-odd moves ahead, and predicted a final written warning. After several weeks of deliberation, and much wailing and gnashing of teeth, the final written warning duly arrived.

This is a guy who has been a friend of mine pretty much my whole life and - arguably - is my best friend. I'll call him "Pop", since that's what he's prone to go when people push him too far. He taught me how to fly under the radar so that people would not see me coming. He taught me a lot about life, and about how to deal with it, but the most important lesson of all that he taught me was "never, ever, back down when you're right - and know that you're right 100% of the time. Except when you're not". I owe this guy my very existence, and I am what I am today because of him.

OK, OK, so I'm talking about my Da. The toughest guy I've ever met. A man who lives by his principles in a way that I aspire to. They took him on and they lost.

Hitler, and Napoleon, took on Russia. In front of the superior technology and tactics, the Russian lines collapsed. Napoleon made it to Moscow. Hitler made it to Stalingrad. What neither of them new until later was that the collapse of the Russian lines was not a sign of defeat, it was deliberate tactic to stretch their supply lines and draw them out nice and thin. We know what happened to Hitler in Russia. We know what happened to Napoleon in Russia. Let the counter-attack begin.

There are two people in the world you absolutely do not want to pick a fight with. One is yourself - you will always lose. The other one is my family. We fight as a Spartan phalanx - impenetrable and deadly. These people tried to fuck my Da which, unfortunately for them, means that they are now head-to-head with me. Poor people. Hell is about to be unleashed, and they have no idea.

You have to understand that when I was alone and vulnerable and just a small child, my Ma and my Da fought tooth and nail for me. Against the overwhelming might of authority and beaureacracy and people with power they fought. Unwinnable battle after unwinnable battle they fought. Child psychology expert after child psychology expert were dispatched:

"Do you have children?"

"No"

"Then don't fucking tell me how to bring mine up"

And now, unfortunate as it may be, it is my turn to go into battle for my Da.

Anyway, nature by the numbers.

There's these litle insects called cicadas. They get buried in eggs underground and spend years feedins on roots. One species lives 13 years underground as grubs, the other species lives 17 years underground as grubs.

Then, one day, they all dig their way out and sprout wings. They live for anywhere between a few days and a few months, they mate and lay eggs and die. 17 years underground in exchange for only a few weeks of shagging. It doesn't sound like a good deal, but I'd take it anyday since I've met the Missus. Well worth 17 years underground.

But that's not the point. The point is in the 13 years and 17 years. It's a stroke of genius. It's a mathematical defence against predators.

The predators of the cicada are many, and they all have 3-year of 5-year breeding cycles. But the cicada's breeding cycle - 13 or 17 years - is a prime number. Which means that none of their predators can get into sync with it. It's an absolute stroke of genius.

Then, when I think about it, the breeding cycle of humans is (on average) 23 years. Which is also a prime number. Which may be one of the reasons why we've evolved to be top of the food chain, and capable of building BMW 450X enduros. Maybe if we hadn't done it first then there would be a little cicada bike factory churning out little cicada BMW enduro bikes.

As Woodward and Bernstein said - "that's not a denial". And the 13 and 17 year breeding cycle of the cicada - that's not a coincidence.

Somewhere in there, there is something for me to learn. There are answers all around you, if you're prepared to ask the questions.

And a question that I have. How tall and heavy, exactly, is Kemal Merkat? The Transorientale website applauded him for his performance on the hottest day despite him being "of modest stature". I have a vested interest in this - how small is he exactly?

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