At 6 a.m. this morning, if someone would have shaken me awake at gun point and told me that I either had to ride my bike to work or undergo genital electric shock torture, I’m not sure what I would have chose.
Fortunately the only thing that woke me up this morning at gun point was my alarm, blaring at 6 a.m. to attempt to get my sorry ass out of bed so I can get a fire going and heat the house up in time to get up at 7. That’s right folks, no furnace at our residence, we do things the old school DIY way…
Today was the day I had been waiting for when riding to work was going to feel like torture. I knew this day was coming and I knew it would be a tough one in my current funk state of laziness. I did everything I could think of to avoid getting ready to ride. Today was the first day I left the house after 8, but I prevailed and left the house on the bike with pack on back. Although my lunch never made it out of the fridge.
For the first time since I re-declared my sovereignty did I feel endangered on the road. I actually was feeling good about SG and thinking that the total inundation of cyclists here has caused people to be more aware, more friendly, less pissed off, etc. But nay, two separate cars tried to run my off the road within a block. My favorite road, Tabernacle, almost took my life as well. I have to say I would have looked pretty damn funny stuck to the hood of that FJ Cruiser that didn’t want to wait for me to get through the intersection.
All said I made it here safe, unscathed by the unsultry underbelly of this untown. And maybe it was the close calls, or the fact that on this day that I did not want to ride and did, but today the idealism was boiling in my blood like it did for so many years. It felt good.
Peace. Love. and Revolution.
I, too, shall ride my bike to work!