I am a dawdler. My wife hates it. 

When we walk the dog, I amble along aimlessly, stopping to look at plants or interesting molehills. She, on the other hand, likes to stride purposefully, like every step is taking her closer to some solution to a problem I know nothing about. 

“I can’t be bothered with KOMs, power meters, segments, heart rates and such.”

I am not a plant or mole aficionado, but I like to slow down, have a look, and ponder the mole’s existence; simply because I hate rushing around like the demented personal secretary to a war chief who can only take urgent updates on the move.

Even in shopping malls, if I stop to stare at a window display for too long, she’ll have done two laps, downed four flat whites and asked – with some hint of desperation – what’s taking me so long.

My approach to getting from A to B probably stems from a childhood spent whizzing around from school to shops to home at breakneck, madcap speed, thanks to my mother’s penchant for leaving everything to the last minute. There was no such thing as a sedate, serene outing to the local store to buy lettuce and a Sunday Times. No, it was always a haphazard rush, a sprint from idling to aisle seven. 

And usually the shopping list would consist of three essential items; and by the time we got home, there were five items in the boot, but nothing that we actually needed. All of that energetic angst I suffered in my youth has stripped away any desire I might have ever had to be in a hurry. 

Naturally, this has translated into my cycling. I can’t be bothered with KOMs, power meters, segments, heart rates and such. So, it was much to my delight when in the Cape Epic broadcast earlier this year, one of the elite women riders replied rather sniffily to a question about her watts during a stage. Instead of trotting out her ‘numbers’ to the awe of the interviewer, and for the listening audience at home to decipher what it all meant, the rider simply stated, “I have no idea. I’m old school. I just ride.” 

For facts and stats obsessives, this was anathema. The interviewer almost passed out in shock. The studio presenters were stunned, not quite sure how to interpret the answer. They laughed nervously, as if the rider had just told us she’s never ridden a bike before. 

But for me, it was an affirmation that – although I’m outnumbered in modern thinking, and in practice – the stats are meaningless to the majority of bike owners. It all sounds impressive on TV and looks astonishing in print. But that’s not the heart of bike riding. That’s not the soul of the sport. What it really is – what it truly means – is freedom, fun, and the ability to go somewhere as slowly or as quickly as you like. 

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I took that lesson to heart on my very next bike ride. I rounded up two other like-minded riders, and we set off on a tour of the dirt roads around a small Western Cape town. “Where are we going?” they asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s ride out that way, and head back when we feel like it.” Okay, they nodded in agreement. 

And off we rode. With no clue, no plan and no expectations. 

Just three dudes and their bikes, going nowhere slowly. 

Freelance media man David Moseley might still be out on that loop. If you see him, say hello.

READ MORE ON: The Spokesman