Turns out the lack of a metaphorical wind in my sails lately was from a lack of actual air in my tires. Inflated to proper pressure, my ride was less laborious and accordingly more pleasant. Coupled with the outstanding weather, I set about my ride in high spirits and even sought ways to make it last longer.
I rode down to the Custis, then on the Custis Trail from Quincy to the bridge. Lots of bicylclists heading in both directions. I think I've underappreciated this trail and I regret not riding it more frequently. I don't know why I'm lamenting it like it's going away. It's unlikely that Arlington will demolish it once I move, so I'll have ample opportunity to return on weekends and avail myself of the facility once more. "Avail myself of the facility" sounds like a posh and roundabout way to say that one is going to the restroom, which is not, in fact, what I plan to do on the trail on weekends.
Turns out robin egg blue Cross Check guy lives out somewhere past me in Arlington. He was wearing kulaks and a long sleeve royal blue cotton sweater. I think it's still to early in the season for the amount of long sleeves that I've seen, but to each his own. I went by him on the Custis near Lee Highway and he eventually rode up behind me again at the Georgetown side of the bridge. We both went up 35th, but I don't know where he went after that.
I really don't know how some people, ladies mostly, ride bikes in short-ish skirts. Is it comfortable? Modesty concerns alone must make it more arduous than pants wearing. The Official Wife has a college friend who rides with bike shorts on underneath her skirt, so that seems like a potential solution. Though, I suppose modesty concerns vary from individual to individual and are frankly none of my business.
Got myself in a pickle (not literally. I only take vinegar and dill baths every other week) by riding myself between the back of a stopped bus and a parked van. I dismounted and turned my bike to around a 45 degree angle, the front wheel pointing toward the curb. This put my pannier lefter (not a word?) than the rest of me and when the bus pulled forward, its rear bumper, which extends slightly wider than the body of the bus itself, briefly brushed my bag. Entirely my fault for putting myself in a bad position and I decline to stupidly do that again.
Now that school's back, the people watching along my route has vastly improved. While not as easy from, let's say, sitting at a sidewalk cafe, the seat of a bicycle makes an excellent perch for observing the interactions and foibles of those around you. And since you're going slower than you would in a car, you have more time to overhear conversations (cell phone or in-person) or get a second look at someone. Pedestrians: they're like real life movies!
One latex glove in the middle of the street near Cathedral. Curious.
Contact with a bus? Isn't that the bike equivalent of counting-coup-touching-your-enemy-in-the-hand sort of thing.
ReplyDeleteWhat is that you said? It all seems mundane until it turns horrifying.
The bus-bicycle ritual culture hasn't been explored by anthropologists and archaeologists sufficiently, but I'm fairly comfortable declaring this act relatively equivalent. To be honest, much like with the earthquake, the potential gravity didn't dawn on me until after the fact, which in a lot of ways made it seem worse.
ReplyDelete