Let Sleeping Cards Lie

It's been a while since I've been allowed out after dark. Okay yeah, I'd rather be home on the couch not out sweating through pedal strokes with no where in particular to go, it's true.

But last night I was out after dark and I had to get home. Back on my old commute route. The plus side is I got to do my Meg Ryan routine down the big hill...but that also put me at the intersection I don't love and then the stretch of road followed by the HILL.

....and....the....DETOUR sign that makes me hate the color orange. Change is not welcomed opened arms, really, ever. And I followed that detour once in the car...it sucks! Clearly not thinking of the daily cyclists when they suggested that detour. There is a somewhat better option.

Which I took. And was rewarded with a free DVD. Alas, although it was a good movie, I had already seen it. And it wasn't really mine to take. But I do like to rescue items roadside, so I turned around and picked up the Netflix envelope strewn upon the gravel.

Add it to the list. Credit card, credit card, metro card, wallet, $20, credit card, library card, purse, cat, credit card, yearbook, PA license, DVD, and....wait, CAT?!

Yes, Parker might be the biggest, oddest, cutest find ever on the bike. I typically like to try to bring peace of mind to the rightful owners, but companies don't really give a shit. IF you can ever reach a human at a credit card company good luck making headway. Without a pin number attached to the card, first of all, they don't want to talk to you. Secondly they don't care that you are trying to do the right thing. They won't contact the owner or send them a new card. I've been without plastic thanks to an evil doer, and the faster you can turn that card around and put it back in my hand the better...they don't care.

The DVD company...doesn't even know who the customer is without an email address. Yeah, no, I have their name and address right in front of me. Maybe you could just make a note that they didn't get the DVD and if there's damage didn't create it. I don't want to kick a postal service that's down, but I don't always get MY mail either.

I'm not dogging Netflix, Erin was delightful on the phone and was super nice to me. They were quick to pick up and address my concern (kinda). She asked why I didn't take it to the address. Yeah, well, I was tired, it was dark, I was on bike, didn't really know where the street was, and wasn't interested in getting shot somewhere near Walter Reed because I was poking around some one's house in the dark. Call me lazy.

 

Then she expected me to drop it in the mail, on my dime, after I took it to the post office to have it weighed. Again, call me lazy, but NO. Next time I might not be so quick to return it. I'll first need to consult the address and the condition of the envelope. If I hadn't found it and returned it I'm just curious if Steven would have been responsible financially for replacing it? Since they don't really know who Steven is without @gmail tacked on the back.

 

Sincerely,

Good Samaritan (for the time being)

 

Good Ole Fashioned Neck Wringing

Why I oughta...I don’t often ride up to an open window. Especially one at a stop sign, lingering, on a chilly, dark night. But it was clear I wasn’t pedalling forward tonight if I didn’t.

The driver leaned over and back and said, “Excuse me…” This is how they ‘get you’. They act like they are in need of assistance and then they try to school you. And not like they ever ask, but this particular night I was all good with my pile of knowledge, thanks.

So he says, “I just wanted to let you know you aren’t very visible from behind.” Now I had checked my light before I left and I knew it was bright and visible. The headlight….not so much, it was desperately in need of a charge. And so I waved my hand in front of my sputtering headlamp and said, “I’m not overly visible from the front right now either and the longer we stand here and discuss it the less visible I become so I’d really rather go.” 

Then, because he’s the type that knows everything and needs to not only let every one of us know that but also spread his diarrhea of knowledge around the crib like a unsupervised baby with a dirty diaper, he starts to talk about the angle from which my light is dangling from my bag and the trajectory of light emanating from within. 

He follows this up with, “And you should really have reflectors on your pedals.”  Okay, Mr. Selfish…did I not mention my dying headlight? I politely and less condescending than him explained that real pedals don’t really work that way, but thanks again.  I left out the presence of the glowing reflectors on my shoes, bag, jacket, and gloves, which he clearly didn't see.  

And if he actually had his eyes on the road, the brightly lit city road, he might actually see me. Given the field angle times the hypotenuse of the beam spread divided by the width of the lens x focal length of the instrument minus the kelvins absorbed by my dark clothing…Really I just wanted to say, maybe it's your driving.

Then he gunned the engine, scared the elderly man dead center of his front bumper carefully crossing the street in the crosswalk, as I screamed, “Don’t hit the pedestrian in front of you!” The street crosser breathed a sigh of Thanks to me and I rest my case about this guy’s driving. Just sayin...

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!

What's Black and White and Read All Over?

There is something to be said about good old fashioned news...as in paper, newspaper.  Not to mention the handy little bag it comes in every morning, the challenging crossword, and various biased reports from around the globe masquerading as fair and balanced...but there is the newspaper itself.

You've heard the rumors.  Sterile....well, not exactly...but it does work great to clean windows, protect ice cream, insulate clothing, make paper hats.  WHAT ABOUT PAPER MACHE!?!?  Have you ever tried to make some indiscernible object out of an e-mag??  And what about that paste....what will our youth of tomorrow stick in their mouths and attempt to digest when we walk out of the room for two seconds?

It's not ALL good that we've thrown newspapers to the wayside.  Take last night for example.  I went out for a delightful dinner, stunning conversation, bouts of joy and laughter....unbeknownst to me outside it was pouring.  And I'm not saying it's a bad night when a date ends wet, but....it's better with protection, right?  And it wasn't that kind of date, if you know what I mean.

So I got wet.  Pants, shoes, bag...surprisingly NOT my hair, go figure.  But when you ride every day- wet anything is not good, especially in winter.  Enter the newspaper.  Perfect for stuffing wet shoes...alas, not a page of paper in the joint! 

In a pinch, I tried stuffing my mouse in there, but as you can imagine it didn't help.  Thank god for hairdryers.  And the seat....well, let's just say, it's good to have a spare.

EMERGENCYCLE

Drunk Dude in the road will jump out in front of you and scream at you.  I guess all that didn't fit on the sign.  USE CAUTION does cover it, but I thought they meant the grooved pavement.  I was somewhat unprepared for Drunk Dude.

"Call 911 Sir, I've just been assaulted"  Now it was my turn to do something.  And I swerved and pedaled on.  No, I never looked back.  This wasn't a comatose guy on a tricycle.  I did nothing.

He was lunging into the street demanding I take action.  Now I'm not up on my liquor bouquets, but I strongly believe that basenote was octane.  Or at least flammable.  And he didn't appear assaulted, but I'm no expert.

Lucky for him those guys on the right are.  I hate to point out the obvious, oh who are we kidding I LOVE that, you might actually get a quicker response on your left.  There, that brightly lit building...I'm fairly certain it's open.  And I bet they have phones.  They might even have a direct line, bypassing 911 altogether.

Yes, there, that one, the one that says HOSPITAL.  Really.  If you go around to the side they can dial 911.  In fact, if you were truly assaulted, they are uber trained for that.  There, under the EMERGENCY sign, the doors should open when you walk up.  You may have to wait, but the phone call, immediate.  Best of Luck.

Tale Light

How do you like that? My light has an effingham sense of humor. All the way home I bet it stayed dark. NOW it works. Nice.

I've gotten lazy. I'm a layzee biker. I used to carry a flashlight. I used to carry spare batteries. I used to have a spare light in my locker. I used to have a spare light on my helmet. I used to care.

Now I'm not even sure if the spare tube I have in my bag is good. Or fits. Or if my pump is in there. I don't have reflective gear, I'm not wearing bike shoes, and there isn't a shiny bit on my wooden bicycle.

So there I was tonight with a broken light. Or apparently, one that only works on the kitchen table. Oooooh, as I sit here now, I'm thinking there just might have been a working light on my hub. Funny thing is, it doesn't work if you don't remember.

"It's not a law to have a light on your bike is it?"

"Indeed it is."

"But a cop won't pull you over and give you a ticket"

"I'm more concerned about not being seen than the law."

"But I see bikers out there all the time without lights"

"Again, I'm not interested in the ones you SEE, just the ones you DON'T. "

Happy Christmas

Can You See Me NOW?

Love/Hate Relationship

DC, I am sorry. You are as bad as I claim, but the grass is pretty green in my own backyard. You get a bad rap...the traffic, the drivers, the effed up traffic patterns.

Do Not Enter 7:30-9:30. One Way 4-8. Closed on Weekends. 2 lanes when the sun is between 78 degrees latitude and 6 degrees from Kevin Bacon.

Who can keep it all straight? It's a creepy crawly journey 'round the bulging waistline regardless. Errands fall between the schedules of others never your wants and desires. The heat is stifling. Congestion suffocating. In a word, it SUX.

But tonight I cruised down Wisconsin; flew really. I sat on the river. I watched planes bank along the Potomac. The sights, sounds, and smells of the city within arms reach. The ride home was quiet, dark, romantical. I fell back in love with my city.

Tis the cycle.