Adventures on a Bike, Part 4
Undergrads are dumb. Phew, now that I’ve said that, I can continue to type with much less bitterness.
It’s not even vaguely unusual for an undergrad with earbuds in or phones to their heads or deep in a ever-so-important conversation about who Emma slept with last night, AGAIN… to not be able to hear me coming by. I quite frequently hop curbs or ride on the grass to avoid them. Sometimes even when they don’t have good excuses they don’t hear me. Whatever, they’re dumb, we’ve established this. All people not biking hate bikers, this has also been established and therefore all people side with the undergrads for their right to the sidewalk over dumb cyclists. Fine. I accept. (And freely admit that when I’m not the one on the bike, I hate them too…) So I always make accommodations without rolling my eyes too openly.
But one particular sweet red-headed, ear-budded Freshman (she just looked too naïve not to have been a freshman) could not have treated me worse if she’d tried to. She’s walking along a ridiculously wide stretch of sidewalk, looking down at her Ipod or other brand-name MP3 player, absolutely ignorant of the world around her. The sidewalk is so wide, I don’t even try to warn her.
Of course at the last second, as I’m about to pass her on the right, she glances up, see someone walking towards her and jumps 3 feet in the air at the massive shock of actually coming face-to-face with another human being and scuttles out of their way, directly into mine. I swerve and slam on my brakes, avoiding cute undergrad altogether, but making loud contact with a parking meter.
She stops and offers me a bandaid. I can only stare at her. What am I going to do with a bandaid?? Plus, I’m still standing. Bandaid…really? She then asks me what happened. I choose to pretend to be mute.
After I have made sure she is a respectable distance away from me, I begin again.
A few minutes later, I begin sailing down my favorite hill, on a street little traveled by either cars or pedestrians. As I’m nearing the end, I spot a car turning the corner and I squeeze my brakes to slow myself down…and I don’t. I squeeze harder. I can tell I’m slowing down, but certainly not much. To avoid certain death, I turn the corner myself and gradually stop.
Apparently my collision with a parking meter frayed the wire to my front brakes so badly that the brakes were no longer even touching the wheel.
If you find my little co-ed, please inform her she owes me $10.07 plus mental damages.
Showing posts with label bike. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bike. Show all posts
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Adventures on a Bike - Sweet Little Old Lady
Adventures on a Bike, Part 2
You know no one likes a biker. It’s true. You people in cars hate waiting for cyclists. You people walking hate having to move aside for a bike to fly past. It’s just a fact. So if I get a dirty look now and then, I deal with it and get on with life.
One particularly nice, early summer day, I’m riding along, thinking how blessed I am that I live in such a beautiful town with such fantastic people (the undergrads weren’t around, remember) and have such a perfect family. Nothing can ruin my mood.
I throw my hands out wide “king of the world” Titanic style, speeding down the hill a la Meg Ryan just before she gets slammed by a truck in that movie with Nicholas Cage from a million years ago, and when I slow down at the end, I’m coming up upon a sweet little old lady.
“Excuse me!” I sing it out sweet and in-love-with-life style.
No response. Nothing new. Plus, she’s old so she’s probably deaf.
“Excuse me, ma’am, coming by on your right!”
Still no response, but she’s enough on the left that it’s fine for me to ride right on by, I just don’t want to shock the living daylights out of poor old granny.
One last try as I pedal by, not too fast, not too slow, “Good evening, ma’am! Coming by!”
“Shit!” she yells as I pass by her. If this was all I’d heard, I would have continued to assume I’d misheard, just as I immediately did. But no, she continued.
“Fuc*ing bikers! Should all go to Hel*!”
Apparently all is NOT right with the world. Old ladies do NOT swear when all is right with the world. Do they?
You know no one likes a biker. It’s true. You people in cars hate waiting for cyclists. You people walking hate having to move aside for a bike to fly past. It’s just a fact. So if I get a dirty look now and then, I deal with it and get on with life.
One particularly nice, early summer day, I’m riding along, thinking how blessed I am that I live in such a beautiful town with such fantastic people (the undergrads weren’t around, remember) and have such a perfect family. Nothing can ruin my mood.
I throw my hands out wide “king of the world” Titanic style, speeding down the hill a la Meg Ryan just before she gets slammed by a truck in that movie with Nicholas Cage from a million years ago, and when I slow down at the end, I’m coming up upon a sweet little old lady.
“Excuse me!” I sing it out sweet and in-love-with-life style.
No response. Nothing new. Plus, she’s old so she’s probably deaf.
“Excuse me, ma’am, coming by on your right!”
Still no response, but she’s enough on the left that it’s fine for me to ride right on by, I just don’t want to shock the living daylights out of poor old granny.
One last try as I pedal by, not too fast, not too slow, “Good evening, ma’am! Coming by!”
“Shit!” she yells as I pass by her. If this was all I’d heard, I would have continued to assume I’d misheard, just as I immediately did. But no, she continued.
“Fuc*ing bikers! Should all go to Hel*!”
Apparently all is NOT right with the world. Old ladies do NOT swear when all is right with the world. Do they?
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Adventures on a Bike - Red Hot Spandex Biker Shorts
As biking season is quickly coming to an end, I thought it might be fun to write a little series of blogs about the exciting adventures I’ve had this year.
Adventures on a Bike, Part 1
I’m riding along one day, when I get that eerie tingly feeling, the one you feel when you’re sure someone is watching you. I glance back over my shoulder and see a rusty blue pickup truck slowing down and pulling into the right lane, closest to the sidewalk, but no people. I shake my head, thinking I must be going crazy…er.
Not ten seconds later, I see the old pickup ease next to me, going maybe 10 miles an hour. I wrinkle up my forehead wondering what this could be about and try to sneak another glance at the truck without falling off my bike. As I do, the passenger side window rolls down.
The driver leans waaay over and yells out the window at me, “Damn, you look ree-eal good on that bike!” I could only laugh.
Not many people can pull off red hot, short short, spandex biking shorts, but apparently you are acquainted with one of the few. Aren’t you proud?
Adventures on a Bike, Part 1
I’m riding along one day, when I get that eerie tingly feeling, the one you feel when you’re sure someone is watching you. I glance back over my shoulder and see a rusty blue pickup truck slowing down and pulling into the right lane, closest to the sidewalk, but no people. I shake my head, thinking I must be going crazy…er.
Not ten seconds later, I see the old pickup ease next to me, going maybe 10 miles an hour. I wrinkle up my forehead wondering what this could be about and try to sneak another glance at the truck without falling off my bike. As I do, the passenger side window rolls down.
The driver leans waaay over and yells out the window at me, “Damn, you look ree-eal good on that bike!” I could only laugh.
Not many people can pull off red hot, short short, spandex biking shorts, but apparently you are acquainted with one of the few. Aren’t you proud?
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Ready for the Races!
So, I'm the first to admit that I'm not a great bicyclist. Running, that's my thing. Biking, it's a way to get from place to place without using gas, all the while getting a little exercise.
So I started up again a couple months ago, one or two days a week, and I was pretty rusty. Labored breathing and straining muscles up a tiny hill; sore butt after a short ride, all that. But I've felt like my muscles having been responding recently, getting into bike-riding form for me.
I was pumping along up a hill, a gear or two higher than normal, going pretty quick, barely breathing hard, thinking to myself, "Man, I'm getting good at this."
At precisely this instant, a 106lb sorority girl on a pink banana seat bike, tramp stamp showing between her ultra-low rise jeans and x-small belly shirt (which also managed to barely conceal her size D breasts), idly combing her hands through her thick mass of perfect blonde hair, flew past me (hands free), without even a flush to her cheeks. In the street. Without a helmet.
Well fuck me. Whatever, her Daddy bought her an expensive bike, I'm sure. Sorority girl and all, you know how they are. I've got my 6 year old $50 Target bike. It's the inefficiency of the bike. I'm sure of it.
A ridiculously large man, butt crack and love handles proudly exposed, sped past me next. I'm sure it's easier to pedal when you've got the weight behind your thrusts...right?
So I started up again a couple months ago, one or two days a week, and I was pretty rusty. Labored breathing and straining muscles up a tiny hill; sore butt after a short ride, all that. But I've felt like my muscles having been responding recently, getting into bike-riding form for me.
I was pumping along up a hill, a gear or two higher than normal, going pretty quick, barely breathing hard, thinking to myself, "Man, I'm getting good at this."
At precisely this instant, a 106lb sorority girl on a pink banana seat bike, tramp stamp showing between her ultra-low rise jeans and x-small belly shirt (which also managed to barely conceal her size D breasts), idly combing her hands through her thick mass of perfect blonde hair, flew past me (hands free), without even a flush to her cheeks. In the street. Without a helmet.
Well fuck me. Whatever, her Daddy bought her an expensive bike, I'm sure. Sorority girl and all, you know how they are. I've got my 6 year old $50 Target bike. It's the inefficiency of the bike. I'm sure of it.
A ridiculously large man, butt crack and love handles proudly exposed, sped past me next. I'm sure it's easier to pedal when you've got the weight behind your thrusts...right?
Monday, May 18, 2009
Fuck-me Eyes
I was a sorority girl in college. (I can actually hear my mother chiding me right now - I should say I'm in a sorority now, once a sorority girl always a sorority girl...but working on a college campus I reguarly get mistaken for a college student - and therefore assumed to be immature, disrespectful and worthless for anything but tuition by all non-undergrad students in Ann Arbor, and saying you're a sorority girl does not help this image.) Having been a sorority girl, I know what "the eye" looks like. After all, I gave it hourly at the very least. In fact, one of my many sorority knick-names was "Fuck me Eyes." Uhh...for the eyes part only, of course.
Riding in to work on my bike this morning I a wildly unusual amount of the previously stated "eye." I was a bit later than usual and debated for awhile whether there were just more people out in general? Maybe it was the beginning of new term and there were different people out? Maybe it was all in my head? But no, no, it was most decidedly not in my head. Tons of guys, HOT guys, hot college-aged guys no less, were looking me up and down. Fake-tanned, bottle-blonde girls were checking me out. I was wearing sneakers, jeans, a sweatshirt and a really sexy bike helmet; I'm not sure why anyone would give me a second glance while I'm racing towards them yelling "On your left!" and rolling my eyes continuously, and though occasionally it does happen, this was abnormal. Extremely.
I realized when I got to work that I was wearing my sorority sweatshirt. Go Sigma Kappa! =)
Riding in to work on my bike this morning I a wildly unusual amount of the previously stated "eye." I was a bit later than usual and debated for awhile whether there were just more people out in general? Maybe it was the beginning of new term and there were different people out? Maybe it was all in my head? But no, no, it was most decidedly not in my head. Tons of guys, HOT guys, hot college-aged guys no less, were looking me up and down. Fake-tanned, bottle-blonde girls were checking me out. I was wearing sneakers, jeans, a sweatshirt and a really sexy bike helmet; I'm not sure why anyone would give me a second glance while I'm racing towards them yelling "On your left!" and rolling my eyes continuously, and though occasionally it does happen, this was abnormal. Extremely.
I realized when I got to work that I was wearing my sorority sweatshirt. Go Sigma Kappa! =)
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Sidewalk Biker
I've started riding my bike to work again in the nice Spring weather, and have discovered several interesting little factoids that I may have known before but just repressed from last fall. I'm GREAT at repressing memories if you didn't know.
Despite many of Ann Arbor's main streets having bike lanes, I ride my bike on the sidewalk. This is mostly because people driving cars go fast and don't pay attention to the world around them, while people walking go slow and don't pay attention to the world around them. There is always a constant stream of cars flowing past while I seldom see more than one or two people on the sidewalk (and even then they're almost always undergrads, who barely count anyay.) And I've had the good luck of having this decision reiterated multiple times in the past few weeks.
First, I actually watched a biker, in the bike lane, get hit by a car right here in good ol' Ann Arbor. (The car was making a right turn, I'm guessing this is the most common way for bikers to get hit.) Bike knocked over, bloody road-burned legs, all the goods. I didn't stay around to check for broken bones, my EMT license being expired by 8 months and all...okay, maybe this makes me a terrible person, but she stood up, and there were other people with cell phones out there to help her. What was I going to do? Put her on the back of my bike and take her to the hospital? Anyway, I'd really prefer not to have this experience from her point of view.
Second, the end of my ride after work has a huge hill and the sidewalk has extra waves in the hill to accomodate the constant driveways so I decided one day to try riding on the street. I regretted my decision immensely when I was weaving from exertion at the top of the hill in the bike lane the size of my front tire when a gi-normous semi-truck flew past at 45 miles per hour, swerving with it's own exertion in the lane not originally intended for anything but horse carriages. You know when you're driving on the freeway on a really windy day and when a truck passes it blocks the wind momentarily, but then you practically lose control when the wind hits you again? Imagine your little car being a bike instead. And now imagine the next vehicle to come flying up the hill being a bus. I will stand by my decision to ride on the sidewalk, extra hills and all.
While riding on the sidewalk, I have the fabulous opportunity of interacting with many exciting individuals. Let me point out here that's it not at all unusual to see a biker on the sidewalk anywhere in Ann Arbor, and is certainly expected in the general campus area. The common courtesy phrase as a biker passes a person walking is "on your right/left."
So the other day I say my polite but loud "On your left!" as I get close to a blonde girl (most likely an undergrad unfortunate enough to be stuck taking classes over the summer, at 8 in the morning no less!) She is pleasantly to the right side of the sidewalk (an unusual occurance) so I don't slow down as I approach her. Upon hearing my declaration, she literally pivots on her left foot, turns 180 degrees to face me and stops cold. "Excuse me?" she oh so politely asks my front tire as is barrels towards her. Turning TO your left when I say ON your left is one thing. But then NOT figuring out that I'm riding into you after you're staring at the tire tracks running up your shirt? Really?
Despite many of Ann Arbor's main streets having bike lanes, I ride my bike on the sidewalk. This is mostly because people driving cars go fast and don't pay attention to the world around them, while people walking go slow and don't pay attention to the world around them. There is always a constant stream of cars flowing past while I seldom see more than one or two people on the sidewalk (and even then they're almost always undergrads, who barely count anyay.) And I've had the good luck of having this decision reiterated multiple times in the past few weeks.
First, I actually watched a biker, in the bike lane, get hit by a car right here in good ol' Ann Arbor. (The car was making a right turn, I'm guessing this is the most common way for bikers to get hit.) Bike knocked over, bloody road-burned legs, all the goods. I didn't stay around to check for broken bones, my EMT license being expired by 8 months and all...okay, maybe this makes me a terrible person, but she stood up, and there were other people with cell phones out there to help her. What was I going to do? Put her on the back of my bike and take her to the hospital? Anyway, I'd really prefer not to have this experience from her point of view.
Second, the end of my ride after work has a huge hill and the sidewalk has extra waves in the hill to accomodate the constant driveways so I decided one day to try riding on the street. I regretted my decision immensely when I was weaving from exertion at the top of the hill in the bike lane the size of my front tire when a gi-normous semi-truck flew past at 45 miles per hour, swerving with it's own exertion in the lane not originally intended for anything but horse carriages. You know when you're driving on the freeway on a really windy day and when a truck passes it blocks the wind momentarily, but then you practically lose control when the wind hits you again? Imagine your little car being a bike instead. And now imagine the next vehicle to come flying up the hill being a bus. I will stand by my decision to ride on the sidewalk, extra hills and all.
While riding on the sidewalk, I have the fabulous opportunity of interacting with many exciting individuals. Let me point out here that's it not at all unusual to see a biker on the sidewalk anywhere in Ann Arbor, and is certainly expected in the general campus area. The common courtesy phrase as a biker passes a person walking is "on your right/left."
So the other day I say my polite but loud "On your left!" as I get close to a blonde girl (most likely an undergrad unfortunate enough to be stuck taking classes over the summer, at 8 in the morning no less!) She is pleasantly to the right side of the sidewalk (an unusual occurance) so I don't slow down as I approach her. Upon hearing my declaration, she literally pivots on her left foot, turns 180 degrees to face me and stops cold. "Excuse me?" she oh so politely asks my front tire as is barrels towards her. Turning TO your left when I say ON your left is one thing. But then NOT figuring out that I'm riding into you after you're staring at the tire tracks running up your shirt? Really?
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