11:30am: And so, the trip came to a halt. I shall name this failed attempt Killjoy #1 – The Morbid, for lack of a better word. At this precise moment, I am sitting at the junction of Rokeby Road and Roberts Road, sipping a warm mug of San Churros’ hot milk chocolate. The route map and my gloves glaring at me, mockingly; the Great MIA Escapade was never intended to be so enjoyable. 
I’m jogging my memory to retrace the series of stuff ups I’ve had since the morning, more or less all due to my unsatisfiable curiosity, and my inability to keep my butt on the wheels.
8:30am: Karen, brimming with anticipation, chokes herself on the last bit of muffin and downs the remaining soy milk to get her breakfast down. With her morning staple done, she slaps on her headgear and funky shades, ditching those gloves because they look gay. She takes a step out the door and is immediately greeted by the bitter morning chill. The gay gloves come in handy after all. Ready to Rumble!
The trip starts by backtracking 30metres to the junction at Broadway and Princess Road. She’d never imagine her whole journey forth would be full of contemplating decisions – to detour or to de-route. In her mind, she conjured images of miniature dancing penguins rallying around their unquestionable Queen – Penguroo.
She conquered her first uphill battle before reaching Stirling Highway. “Many more to come, ENDURE!” she reminded herself. The cold wind diffused with smog and road dust, clouding her vision and caused her to wheeze. “That’s why I planned the shortest route along the major highway, Wahahaha!” she proudly praised herself mentally as she cuts into a random small road, off her marked path.
LESSON NUMBER 1: Why spend 1 hour plotting a route with Google maps if you are not going to follow it? Damnit Karen.
“General Direction, general Direction!! No worries!!!” she reminded herself confidently. Yet her confidence proved short lived. 10minutes later, she stood pondering at her first dilemma point – Left (General Direction) leads to a path right into the cemetery; Right(one way) leads in a general direction back to the start point.
It’s not difficult to guess which route she chose then because we know that she spent the next 1 and half hours, give and take a little, cycling in loops within the cemetery.
“There’s an odd serenity about this place, and it’s actually quite scenic in the morning.”
A few other joggers and retired brisk walkers shared her view. But unlike the others, who had a route, and diligently adhered to theirs, she went off track onto the dirt paths, on track, on roads and finally off track again. Signs that she first used for tracking soon became proof of her despair. Soon, she couldn’t distinguish any of the paths anymore. Words like “Orthodox”, “Reserve”, “Catholics”, “Anglican”, “Salvation” and “Gardens” didn’t seem very tranquil anymore.
LESSON NUMBER 2: Don’t bother trying to find your way around in a cemetery. It’s useless if they all look the same.
When she finally got out of the maze designed for the dead, literally, her navigation has gone severely haywire. There’s no telling which direction goes where. She dedicated the next 45minutes cycling in random directions based on gut – something she usually sucked at. Street names such as “Carrington Street”, “Aberdare Road” and “Railway Road” were like totems she circled continuously. By the third time she passed “Smyth Road”, her patience had worn so thin something drastic needs to be done.
So she did what she thought she had to do - anyhow, anyhow la!
Thomas Street loomed ahead. It was a location she was familiar with. Half glad she finally got her coordinates back but the major part of her yelled “Sianzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....” as she sped closer and closer. This meant she’s now in an area that is even further behind start point, totally off course. She visioned personified alphabets F-A-I-L waving poms poms at her and throwing confetti with mini ‘give-up’s and ‘wahaha’s in her face.
LESSON NUMBER 3: If all else fails, a little bit of cheating is justified, right?
But Karen does not give up just because a great half of her day is burnt identifying headstones and angel statues. She decides to cheat a little. Since [time spent peddling] is relative to [distance covered], or so she’s trying hard to convince herself, had she stayed on track in the beginning, she would well be approaching Freemantle by now. But Karen will not skive off her calories busting regime. She will hitch a train at Subiaco, alight at Cottesloe and regroup from there on. Sounds like a plan?
With that planted firmly in mind, the alphabets and their deplorable, discouraging props diminished into dust. She knew her way too well from here. It was going to be a fruitful trip after all she tried to convince herself one last time. As she sped down the all-so-familiar Rokeby Road, Distractions flanked both sides. The smell of freshly cooked soup and baked baguette wafted through the air and boutiques started opening their fronts for business. At that juncture, she remembered the reason why her route was charted as distant from civilisation as possible.
Her final glimmer of hope for this expedition snuffed out when she and The Wanderer stood in the station, gawking bleakly at the notice that stared back – “There will be no train service from Perth to Freemantle on 26th and 27th June...” She took a peek behind her. Then she knew she lost it. San Churros was beckoning with open arms, full of warmth and comfort, and always so ready to soothe her angst with cocoa. =D
LESSON NUMBER 4: Even cheating failed? Give up. Replan, Reorder and Retry. Good Luck.
Enough of your Shortcuts, Karen?
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The Wanderer took 2 hits. First when Karen crashed straight into a 5inches kerb sticking out of the ground, obviously distracted when Mr Bee decided to play around. Why did they build these things anyway! Second hit when Bee flew closer and The Wanderer crashed to the ground. All Karen could do was root to the ground and shout "OH MY... gosh.. oh.. MY GOSH.. OH my goSH.. OH My goshhh......" till it flew away. The caps and the distance (between Karen and bee) are relative.
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