Alternate History: Wallaby Roadkilled
If I were a journalist—or even a decent blogger—I’d have reported this a while ago, like when it happened. But we philosophers aren’t known for getting our writing done quickly, so I’m finally getting around to posting now. Consider this an announcement from the Better Late Than Never Department.
About two weeks ago—so still in Tasmania—I was biking down the mountain from Arthurs Lake to Liffey. There’s a thrilling winding road, and through one of the 55 kph curves I actually hit 55 kph. It felt more like riding a motorcycle than a bike; just lean and lean and lean.
It occurred to me on the way down that the natural habitat of the wallaby is smack in the middle of the road. If one of them had come sprinting out at me, there’s no way my brakes were up to the task of stopping me—not in less than 50 yards, I bet. So in an alternate history, I go over the handlebars and get bashed to pieces when a wallaby clips me, then he shouts “YES! We finally got one!” He and his friends all exchange high-fives and go to the nearest wallabar, where everyone there buys him a drink in celebration of his derring-do. Finally the roadkiller becomes the roadkilled.
But that’s not what happened. I made it down safely, and rolled through the tiny town of Poatina. There I saw a couple of guys on dirt bikes. One was doing wheelies while another dude was filming him. I told him “I could do that, I just don’t wanna.”
He laughed, I rode over, and his buddy and I talked about motorcycles while Wheelie Boy went tear-assing around the hills for the cameraman. Turns out there was an enduro race that weekend, both of these guys were in it, and Wheelie Boy was favored to win. The cameraman was with the local news, there with a reporter who overheard me talking to the other racer. That guy and I exchanged vehicles for a bit. His is waaaaay easier.
So the reporter comes over and says he wants to do a story on me for the nightly news. I said yes, of course, and didn’t think about how stupid I look wearing all my safety gear until too late.
Either Tassie is really small or Tasmanians are avid fans of the evening news, because twice that week I ran into someone who recognized me. Both were polite enough not to mention the news compared me to a mentally disabled person. Skip ahead to eleven minutes in if you want to see the clip about me, or watch the whole thing if you want to catch up on current events in Tasmania as of two weeks ago.
ETA: In case the embed doesn’t work: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flsnhv50U4k