Ups and Downs

I hate to call the girl out but this is how it went down. First, I'm not sure if this makes us a perfect couple or unable to ride together...but this is what's up. I like to go up. And she likes to go down.

That sounds a little dirtier than it really is.

So the girl likes to be on top. Again, you are thinking dirtier than it is. She doesn't like to be whipped...ahh, again. Let's just say, she's competitive. And I am kicking her ass...fancy bike and all.

From my position uptrail, I heard quite the clatter. She threw her bike. THREW her bike. In the woods. Things were definitely NOT looking up. Ah, but if only that meant it were all downhill from here. That could fix everything.

I hesitated to say it, but  baby, can you find it in your heart to try NOT to throw your bike into the woods? To which she replied, I knew I should have never let you buy me a bike. It is true what they say, you should never buy a girl a bike. But I married her so I thought it was okay.

No, it is your bike. Technically you can do anything you want with it. I'm just asking you to try really hard not to hoist it above your waist and shotput it into a pine tree. See, technically, I will be the one fixing it when it's broke...so there's that. And I'm not that great a mechanic. Besides it's not good for the pine tree, worse for the bike, and do you really want to walk back to the car?

Heeheehee Banana. Let's RIDE.

Here's Mud On Your Thigh

Thems my pants. This My Dear, is why I need to buy new pants. So the other day the girl gives me grief, says "don't you already have a brown pair of pants?"

I'm sorry, aren't you the one who wanted to go to Gabe's, absolutely knowing neither one of us needed a single thing from there?? But really, who can pass up a trip to Gabe's?

Skipping Gabe's. It's like eating one Pringle, who the hell can do that? Come to think of it I'm not even sure that's a word. Pringle. I'm quite certain the correct use of that word would always require plurality, Pringles. Anyway...

Then, she wants an inventory of my brown pants selection.

THEN, she puts on my brown pants to go biking. Mountain biking. In the mud. And of course she falls. Repeatedly. In my brown pants. Yes, thank god they were already brown. But I repeat, this is why I need to buy new pants. ANOTHER pair of brown pants.

A Lesson In Communication

What she said was, my chain came off and my brake is rubbing a little bit. I didn't take a hint. We kept going. This is the first of the many blog posts I promised in an upcoming mountain bike series...word of caution: it might also be the last.

Now I don't know if this was before or after she decided to ram her bicycle into a tree in hopes of rendering her bike useless forcing us back to the parking lot. If this happened before the chain came off...I'm thinking this might be why.

If, however, it happened after....Baby, we need to address your stubbornness.  When I stop and ask, how we doing....the generic answer is not fine. When I stop and ask if you want to go to the zoo...I'm saying, would you like to take a break from the bike and go look at animals. Maybe I should have asked, would you like to have pizza?

Turns out my wording is all wrong. This isn't the first time I've heard this. When we got to a turning point what I said was, do you want to BAIL? I hear it now, I get it, you're right. What I needed to say was, would you like to redirect our energy in a more advantageous way to make the most of our dwindling time together and perhaps grab some food before you need to head back home?

In my defense, I did ask about the zoo. It's my gentle reminder about our 'safe word' Po-UHOH-ny. Damn it, I did it again. I missed her obscure clue. What she said was, what's that brown thing over there? Like a clueless dolt I said HORSE. Which dumb ass....is the same as....PONY.

Night Rider

Again, I ride home with the kids after school; again we arrive in the dark. I can't imagine the time they get home on foot. Okay, maybe they are showing off a little for the special guests...

And therefore, maybe we had a minor accident on the way. I was overly eager to see every aspect of this amazing project, but really guys an accident is a little much. I am quite certain this was not on the itinerary. But I get the concept of needing insurance for the kids, kudos to Peacock for supplying it.

So as we waited with our injured biker one of the students picks up Bong's bike. He could lift it with one finger. This is one measurement that is consistent with the measurements in the States. The student's bike weights about 55 lbs. Bong's 5.

I'm pretty sure the kid wanted to ride it, but looked at it like an alien hybrid.  He couldn't find the shifters. I couldn't understand a bit of what they are saying, but I'm not stupid. And neither is he...

I watched him follow the cable, look under the handlebar, and push on the bolts.  Good thinking. I mean he did all the logical things before moving on to the crazy. As you can imagine the bolt trick didn't work. Everyone was laughing and there was more talking and discussing and rational thinking. Then came the irrational, from what I could gather.

Bong was clearly pulling his leg, although again, I have next to no idea what they are saying.  All I got was Bong saying, "FIRST GEAR!" I was rolling!  A voice activated shifter?!  This guy is genius!  And as I said, this fourth year is not stupid.  He shook his head and continued his search.

High, low, above, and beyond. He was flummoxed. Finally he shrugs his shoulders and shouts, "FOURTH GEAR!" And we all laughed so hard our sides hurt---even our wounded warrior, she was tough!

Bong, was right, it was a great Valentine's Day...we both had sooo many dates!

BWI

I'm sorry what?  Did I hear you correctly? Did you just call me HIGH MAINTENANCE? Me? Did you mean to call ME high maintenance? Or did you just say Hi! Maintenance? Because I'm a technician, not maintenance.

I walked in a bar, met a guy named Jerry, and he accused me of being high maintenance within 5 minutes. I hate to break it to you Jer but not a single hair follicle has seen a brush, comb, razor, or tweezer in a month or more. I'm not proud, I'm just saying.

On a positive note, I got in for free. "Bikers get in free," that's what the doorman said. And if I could just point out, high maintenance girls DO NOT ride to bars on bikes. Sometimes they ride ON bars on bikes, but never bikes to bars.

But I will say this, in an effort to pack for my upcoming trip, I have come across a most disturbing girlie thought:  I've got drawers full of clothes and not a thing to wear!

Er...

The line wasn't so bad, but as soon as they put the wristband on I got a drinking test.  What?  Shouldn't I get at least get ONE drink first?  Not a bad idea to test someone before AND after, I mean to get an accurate test, but I ain't even been served yet!

Okay, so I touched my nose and heel toed my way across the room.  Now can I have a drink? Not for two days; are you crazy!  I just took out a door with my head.  Surely I deserve a drink.

There I go again with a door/work injury.  Hadn't even thought of it.  Turns out they don't work as good if you try to put your head through them.  I mean before they are opened.  Note to self:  wear helmet even when OFF the bike...

It's not the coolest club in town, but I did get this really cool bracelet with my name on it.  I asked, and they don't actually serve ANY drinks.  Apple juice, that's right they offered me apple juice.  BUT I did get a free ride in a wheel chair like an amusement park.  I really think the guy could have put more into it, it was really rather tame.  And he just left me sit outside this really ominous sign that said CAUTION RADIATION.

No cause for alarm...there are absolutely NO cats in my head!  Zero.  I didn't think it necessary to take radioactive pictures to find this out however. CAT Scan, they called it.  It was really a brain scan and I tried to activate every cranny so it would light up like I see on TeeVee.

Diagnosis:  concussion.  The medical term for, there's really nothing wrong, but we want to cover our ass.  Treatment:  resume normal activity, no TV, no alcohol, and don't stay up late.  Uh, Doc, we may have a problem here...can you maybe rank those in order of importance because there's no way you're getting all that!

It IS a Vehicle

A girl walks into a...body shop, thought I was gonna say BAR dincha?  Oh shoot, that's not going to work either...so a girl rides into a body shop...

I did.  I parked out back and rode the little joint around front and into the office.  Parked it right there beneath the counter.  Kickstand and all. Then, I plopped my key down on the counter and the guy just looked at me.

I looked, and sure enough, I was in the right place, says Auto Body right on the door.  "I'm dropping my car off to get repaired."  There may have been a hint of attitude. (hey, it was early)

He looked at me.  At the bike.  At me.  At the bike.  He stood to get a better look at the bike.  Then he shrugged, took the key, and said "okay".  And we all laughed.  I told him the fender needed tightened and maybe a touch up on the paint.  Then he pulled out the paint book...

...Meanwhile, they are banging the shit out of my car for a few grand.  I like the sense of humor; I guess you need it when you charge folks $100 for new logos so Honda can advertise on your trunk.  For FREE.  Okay, I'll drop it.  But that's about $13 a letter.  And the bumper stickers...?

What a Rip Off

The good news is she stopped.  And she didn't give me a thumbs up, but then I did nothing to deserve it this time.  I was sitting there at the red light minding my own business with my foot on the brake.  And then it hit me.

The other car that is.  And here's the thing you already know, insurance is a scam....and so are the people on the receiving end.  And here we are in the middle, the victims, sacrificing our time, our life, our money to support these two monsters controlling our crumpled lives.

I'm just going to say this...I don't care if anyone knows I'm driving a Honda...if they can't see that they are blind (which maybe, they shouldn't even be on the road then, I'm just saying).  I really don't care if they know it's an EX, I'd rather they not to be honest.  What I do want, is to advertise my interests...climbing, riding, a political affiliation, a favorite vacation spot....It's MY bumper, MY prime advertising space.

But after the accident who is going to replace those bumper stickers?  Not the insurance company I'll tell you that.  And WHY the hell not I ask you?  They will have been damaged as a result of the accident, for which I bear no fault, and should by all means be covered by the policy.  Really, what are we talking, 5-15 bucks tops?

You know what is covered?  Honda.  Civic. Ex.  $20. $20. $20. I. Kid. You. Not. That's not including the labor to reaffix them to the repaired trunk. We're talking $100 bucks to replace corporate advertising to MY space.  Shoot, I could use a Sharpie to replace that.  On second thought, shouldn't THEY be paying ME?

Midday Fallies

And you thought riding through the city was dangerous and challenging...Have you ever tried circumnavigating a strip mall parking lot three days before Christmas?  It's worth the prime parking spot however!

And yet, it was the trail that put me on my ass.  Like a sheet of ice on a super slick tire....leaves, mud, you name it...it's why they call it FALL.  Not once.  Not twice. But THREE times I almost fell.

And there I was checking out some Xtires at the REI.  Nothing against REI, but it's not the place I expected to be looking at Xtires, alas online shopping is often challenging. And there just happened to be a sweet set locked to the same bike rack.  So I measured, and checked it twice...I wanted naughty AND nice.  Something with some teeth, but still manageable...You know a little winter grip...come to think of it that fender may have to go.

The thing about brick and mortars are you get it NOW, which is apparently exactly when I needed said tires.  If third time's a charm, fourth time's some harm.  Yes, indeedydoo I put her down on the fourth tricky pass.  I put her down hard.  My own little version of the ditty, Hit the Deck Falls.

At the time I thought all was well, I mean there arose some clatter, but nothing amiss.  I worked, the bike worked....up, up, and away...but time would bring visions of black and blue plums on my head.  Okay, that was holiday licensing.  It was really my thigh. And my ribs. And my shoulder....Bah Humbugger!

Merry Crossing

What flies through the air, is puffy and round, and red all over?  Mustn't be Santa.  But it might be a distracted holiday shopper flying through town in a red mini cooper.  WATCH OUT!

Have you ever been driving down the street and seen a pedestrian on the side of the road standing in or around a clearly marked crosswalk?  And you know the law is to stop, but you hesitate, thinking, if you wave this person on and the other speeding traffic doesn't stop....well, indirectly you may be responsible for killing some poor schmo?

Yeah, my day was like that. There I was at the newly designed intersection, you know the one, over on Little Falls.  Zig-zag trail, paint, signs, sign....to make the passage safer. And there I was obeying the law like all the drivers want...waiting my turn, in the crosswalk, stopping in the center...

You know this intersection right?  The trail is five inches from the red light.  And yet cars manage to careen around that 90 degree turn and accelerate into 45 mph neglecting the speed signs, trail signs, pedestrian and bike signs, and striped crosswalk.  Clearly it's the bikes causing the problems.

Like when I stopped in the center face to face with a black SUV.  Who stopped.  And waved me on.  Into the intersection.  Onto my death.  See, I didn't trust the teeny red car I saw duck behind the SUV so I hesitated at this front passenger bumper...

I had a front row view to what death looks like right before it  hits.  And all I could do was stare at both bumpers.  I wanted to see the driver's face.  I wanted to turn around to see the horror in the SUV's face.  But all I saw was my front wheel and two steel bumpers.  I missed the whole thing. 

I guess I had to.  Since I was already paused in my track stand waiting for it to happen there wasn't much to do except, well, actually turn my wheel to avoid the collision.  Yep, it was that close. She hit the crosswalk at a good clip, caught sight of me, panicked, and slammed on the brakes.  There was a momentary loss of control as her car skidded even closer and then the hands that flew up as a sort of surrender...like, "I know that was my fault I'm so so sorry"

It was a bit like my dream.  The one where I die.  Since I've had that dream I've had two of these unbelievable close calls.  The first the pedestrians on the sidewalk screeched in horror and I'm sure this one brought on adrenaline rushes across the street.  Neither one did a thing to me.  No, that was close, no heavy breath, no missed heart beats.  Just, ho hum, here we go again...

Paint that's Red
Almost dead
Crosswalk White
Fight or Flight
Wasn't Santa, Wasn't Santa

Left Humerus

There I was doing my business...relax, relax, they aren't bullet holes.  And I wasn't shot, but I was injured.  Now where was I...

Right, there I was with my drawers in one hand and a door in the other.  It's not often you come out of a public restroom with your underpants in your hand, but it's even rarer that you come out with the door on your head either.

That's right!  The door was in my hand and not in the I'm-going-to-exit-the-stall-now kind of way.  More like don't-let-this-freaking-heavy-door-land-on-my-head-neck-or-toe kind of way.  I'm not entirely sure how, but I sort of  'caught' the door and 'placed' it on the floor.  All while standing there in my underpants!

Makes a girl think about wearing long pants to and from the actual locker in the locker room when visiting the wash closet.  Imagine getting knocked out by a stall door and having your boss come in while you're lying there out cold in your panties on the nasty bathroom floor.  But then, who expects to get attacked by  a stall door anyway.  Could scare the shit out of you....sorry couldn't resist.

But this is truly no laughing matter.  And you can clearly see, the hinges are still in tact.  This wasn't me pulling the door off the hinges, the damn anchors came clear out the wall!  So this was the door AND frame crashing in on me as I was exiting the bathroom, yes, yes, IN my underpants!

And it still hurts.  There is some tingling in my upper arm and hand.  I've got some pain in a couple fingers when I grasp something in a certain way.  Nurse Judy says tingling ain't good. But I don't think it's that bad.

There's just this spot on your elbow, you know the one, it drives the ill-named funny bone...it's a bit sore.  When you push on it, as is normal, it causes a pins and needles sensation down your arm.  Well, that, is on steroids! It's more like pitons and railroad spikes.

The ride home was a tad uncomfortable.  My arm was tired and sore.  Tweaking and twisting a handicapped stall-sized door is no easy feat.  But a girl's gotta get home.  Where it's SAFE to pee in private. Phalanges still tingling...

PS....HAPPY BIRTHDAY DR J! (from me and Nurse Judy)

HOT Lanes

I can read between the lines and it says BIKE!  Maybe this is old news, but I've been on vacation.  Right there down the center of my commute is a brand new spanking bike lane!  So new it doesn't even say bike lane yet.

At first I thought I was mistaken.  But it's striped, newly striped, from the top of the hospital to the bottom of the hill.  Right there on the dangerous part of my commute, right outside the ER.  Holy Cross Batman! A lane just for me.  Me and all the other bikers.

Maybe that CYCLE sign really was for motors and pedals alike.  This is a much needed addition, a welcome change.  First the lights were timed differently, now this!  What the hell is going on?!?

There I was trying to be cranky about my miserable day and the most amazing day of the year silently crept up on me!  Silver Spring is showing the bike love!  What's next?  A bike rack at the gym?  Yeah, I know, probably NOT.  That's okay, I'm still grrlcotting them.

But thanks for the lanes!  And the lights.

BOO!

I take back what I said about cameras.  If I had had one mounted on my bars today I wouldn't have behaved any better and I might have had some good video.

Today was carfree day in DC and to that I say, Bring Back the Cars.  I am entirely safer swallowed by vehicular metal.  The sea of walking flesh another story entirely.

Let's cut past the chase (and the boats, right? they should really be more specific when labeling an event 'car'free).  Today, I hit my first pedestrian.  WHAT!?!  Pedestrian.  Hit. My. What, you know he deserved it.  My ex says people can think for themselves.  She thinks intelligence still runs rampant.  I think it was phased out somewhere in the 90s.  And today I may have proved it. 

I know there's some law about pedestrians in crosswalks, but tell me you haven't wanted to hit one or two or ten.  And depending on how tight he was in his loafers I technically may have not even pinched his skin, but I most definitely scuffed his fancy footwear. 

Yes, he was in the crosswalk, I think we established that, but I had the green light.  There were tons of them crossing against the light.  You know you hate it.  I hate it more. Howard students, these are even the brighter ones.  Maybe not so much.  HUH?  Ex-act-ly.

I scooted behind him and at the last second he picked his head up out of his hand.  Of course he was texting.  And not looking.  And walking.  In traffic.  Just like our mothers taught us.  And in an effort to prove my ex decidedly wrong, he then 'decided' to change directions and step back INTO me.  Would now be a good time to point out the phones are smart, the owners, not so much.

I slammed on the brake and wiped half my tire across 7th Street.  I kept the bike upright, barely, as the offender quietly backed up on the sidewalk, where his fellow co-eds were laughing.  At me or him?  Who knows, but I hope the treads I left on his shoe remind him to look up every now and again. It's the Hamburger Generation.

Most Important Meal of Your Life

Did you hear about the woman who was hit in the parking lot of IHOP? This is no joke. She was on her bike and someone backed over her and stopped. Workers inside along with patrons ran out to her rescue and lifted the truck off her as she was turning purple. LIFTED the TRUCK off her.

That being said...IHOP to save a life? Eat a Stack, Save a Rack? Breakfast of Lifesavers...oh, maybe not that one...I'm seeing eggs and cherry flavored candy. IXNAY.

But seriously, Dennys, your Lumberjack special, please? Get your morning energy from an IHOP panniercake. Meals for Wheels? Breakfast, good enough for dinner.

And New Jersey? (That's where it happened.) You need to kill the Jersey Shore; you're being misrepresented. Our Stacks Move Macks? Here it is....IHOP 4 LIFE....oh yeah, that's your new slogan.

Who's up for IHOP?...I'm thinking we should drive.

Close Call For Alcohol

Last night I was driving home, minding my own business, sober as a saint, when this chick totally hit on me.

I know, you're looking at the picture of my car, picking up on the not so clever hit on me double meaning, rolling your eyes. But you don't know the half of it!

Yeah, she hit on me. Side swiped a healthy portion on the rear panel of my car. I saw her hulking SUV in my periphery as I came around the circle. I swerved like a fixie in city traffic but I still heard the swoosh of paint on paint.

I suspect her bass drowned out the sound in addition to her judgment because I believe she chalked this up to a close call. I wasn't sure what to do as I relocated to the center lane of Chevy Chase Circle. I came to a complete stop there between the fountain and the church.

She sidled up next to me peering down from her massive automobile, and stopped dead next to me in the lane that should have been mine. When I looked up at her the most curious thing happened. She was grinning from ear to ear and gave me an emphatic thumbs up. Repeatedly. Like: hey I dig your bumper sticker! Mind if I grab a rubbing of it?

And then she drove on. I can't say she didn't stop per se, because she did, but she didn't. I was in shocked disbelief. Did this bitch just hit my car, cheer my driving tactics, and continue on? Why yes, that's exactly what she did.

Way to go! Drive Baby Drive! Shake those Civic Hips! But you actually HIT my car! It's not okay. Scared the paint right off your own. You don't get to thumbs up me. You can't say something nice and leave your paint on my chassis cover. WHAT is wrong with you? Thank god I was in a car.

You Go Girl

So I'm cruising down 14th in a traffic jam. In the bike lane. A traffic jam in the bike lane. Crazy.

Fixie, CaBi, Fixie, CaBi, me...Crazy.

And I get behind this gal on a CaBi, all decked out for the office. Little skirt blowing in her own breeze, Federal ID badge dangling from her purse.

I'm impressed. She seems right comfortable on that bike. I tried to take her picture but I wasn't nearly as comfortable. She impressed me with her skills. She attempted maneuvers and weaves not covered in Biking 101.

She went through lights and kissed the curbs like a regular bike messenger. On a CaBi, in a skirt. When she went through the first narrow bus passageway, I thought, WOW. I mean I would do that, but not everyone would squeeze through that.

When she approached the next one, I reached for my camera. I couldn't believe she was going for it! Like threading a needle in moving traffic. It was TIGHT. I wasn't going to follow, no way. But there she went carefree cruising down 14th: snug as a bug in a rug.

Metro bus inching along, parked cars bumper to bumper, and Gabby CaBi scaring the advertisement off the bus. Seriously, she had ll that much space between her left handlebar and Doug Hill's face!

BUT WAIT, cars have mirrors! They protrude from the car. It's not often that a pannier will take out a rear view mirror but an occasional bag or elbow might knock boots. But tight squeezes with straight handlebars.....

C R A S H

Gabby CaBi demolished the mirror! She bent it all the way forward to the hood of the car. And stayed on the bike. Bounced into the moving Metro Bus and got a little friendly with the Monday Night Lineup. And stayed on the bike.

She kept right on going. And Stayed. On . The. Bike. Like a pinball off a series of bumpers my girl never lost a stroke. She rode that bike like she had somewhere to go. And away she went...

Snap, Splinter, Pop?

Well, I almost found out the answer to that question. What happens to Urbamboo when crossed with traffic? Well I'm still in one piece, but the trail is looking better every day.

I was sitting at a red light, ironically right in front of the hospital, which could have come in handy. There was a truck sitting also at the red light...or rather green light as his case may be. I watched him because it was curious. Everyone knows green means GO.

But he sat. With his eyes in his lap and his hands fumbling somewhere between. I'm sure he was looking for something, not something more inappropriately crude. None the less HE had the green. But HE was distracted.

When the light turned red (for him), green (for me) I hesitated, waiting for his eyes. Without eye contact you can never be sure what a driver is going to do. Sometimes you still can't.

I had a front row view of his eyes, up close and personal-like. They popped right out of his head as his left front bumper skimmed my personal bubble. In other words: thanks for that!

There he sat, waiting for the red light. Then, and only then, he decided to turn on red, phone in hand, eyes in lap. YES indeedy, he started operating his vehicle without ever looking up. That is UNTIL he was nose in to the intersection...where I sat track stood waiting for him to hit me.

We locked eyes, he stopped and let me go, and gave me an expression that did not really say, I'm so sorry or damn, that was close but rather more of a casual, oops my bad.

Don't Call Me Al

Up until now I have ridden aluminum, aluminum, and mostly aluminum. From here on out, I will never ride aluminum again. Not really.

But really, save the aluminum for the cans. I know, I know, they make planes out of aluminum, but really how much ground do they cover?

I've heard this time and again, "but aluminum is a terribly, uncomfortable ride." No, I love it! Ignorance is bliss...and CHEAP.

I was skeptical about the bamboo. Really, that woody weed I always see draped across the trail after a storm? You're gonna make a sturdy bike frame from that? The breakfast of panda champions? Awwright....

But it's a head turner right? I mean how many have you seen weaving through traffic? So I gave it a test ride. And I pulled up to the light, yeah, I'm gonna stop at every single one now, maybe even green ones...just so you can get a good look at it!

So I pull up to the light and I look around to see who's checking me out. There to my right, well, she's overly distracted in applying another coat of heavy mascara.

Next to her, a lady in uber-black sunglasses; she might actually be blind. Which would explain why she almost hit me. And although I am curious what will happen to the bamboo in an accident, I'm not overly interested in finding out first hand.

Oh forget it, when it comes down to it, it's not how it looks, let me tell you about how this bike FEELS... Like I'm riding on tank tires, that's how it feels. I don't feel the road much at all!

NOW I know what everyone is talking about with aluminum frames...yuck. Don't worry, I'm still gonna ride the other 18 bikes I own, but you really can judge a bike by it's cover.

Today's Special: FREE bike

There I was sloppin' through the CCT muck when I came upon a peculiar sight. An abandoned bicycle right there in the middle of the trail! I mean smack dab in the middle, blocking everything.

I thought about asking the guy rolling around in the mud about it, but he seemed preoccupied with his ankle. He was holding it and rambling on about an ambulance or something.

He wasn't overly interested in moving and I was even less interested in moving him. So instead, I stole his bike. What? It's not like he was using it or anything.

It was relatively easy, like taking candy from a baby. All I said was, I got a guy (or a girl as this case may be); I'll call her. We'll take care of that multi-thousand dollar bike for you. wink wink

Here's my card. Yeah, ignore the logo; I promise I won't send your bike overseas. We'll call you tomorrow. And away we went. No one even questioned the speeding Subaru going the wrong way, backward, UP Connecticut Avenue. Candy. Baby. Wheel SUCKER.

Sincerely, imagine a small fender bender on 16th Street. You're sore, maybe have some whiplash, and an ambulance shows up wanting to take you to the hospital. Sure, better safe than sorry.

Then off to your right, a stranger appears, hand outstretched. "Oh, you poor thing. Here let me take care of that for you. Sure, I can take your car, no problem. I'll bring it to you tomorrow. Here's my card. That's me there, ChopShop Specialist. I'll take REAL good care of your car. No worries...."

....and you willfully, thankfully even, hand over your keys...

Tis the Reason

Well who shoved a chunk of coal up your tailpipe?

Never mind Lillian Leadfoot came barrelling by a playground in a residential neighborhood. She also launched her 'cedes off the asphalt traffic mesa meant to slow Naughty Nancy to a trot.

Intersecting with me, menacing the bike trail, Gunnin' Granny grinded to a halt. There she was straddling the anti-speed butte, preCARiously teetering above Whoville, thistletoe swinging from her dashboard.

She was a dead giveaway, but she could have stuck a peppermint stick in my bike wheel...I was oblivious. I took it as goodwill. Godspeed Biker Girl.

HO, HO, HOnk!

Really? You invite me to pass then blast a horn in my ear as I go? GrannyGopherGuts! That was mean. You could put an ear out!

Then all of a sudden, piercing the bustling holiday air, there arose such a clatter...again with the horn? SCREECHING....SKIDDING....CRUNCHO!

I peered 'round my shoulder to find Kris Crinkle in the middle of a Santa Jam about a block back. Thank the blue haired biddy for spreading her holiday jeer...or a second later and I would have been a flattened hood ornament.