When I first moved to Brisbane to study at University over 35 years ago, it was unusual to see an adult on a bicycle. Possibly too poor to buy a car? Nowadays, our streets (however poorly they cater for us) hum with bikes at all hours, as we exercise, commute and socialise. And one of us died last weekend, crushed by a truck that was too high for the bridge passing overhead: it crashed, toppled and ended the life of a father of two, cycling on a beautiful sunny Saturday morning.
This bridge is a few hundred metres from my workplace and our home. We often cycle under it, and yesterday I paused to pay my respects at a sad memorial to the tragic loss of a young life.