I loved these little lines—everyone did. You would be riding along Aro Street on the edge of Wellington city and then suddenly you could swoop up them and find yourself at the start of the Transient track. They welcomed you in to Polhill Reserve and gave you a little taste of the wonderful mountain biking that awaited.
These little tracks were not designed, or built by grubbers and shovels. They were carved out by necessity over time—by the passage of many wheels. I could feel their history underneath my tyres. They were what park designers call ‘desire lines’, where form follows function. That was their subtle joy. It wasn’t until recently, when they were replaced by a retaining wall, that I realised they had an inimitable personality of pure honesty.
I miss them.