indigoiis
03-25-2008, 09:07 AM
Last night, I missed the usual bus, and had to take an express that put me and the bike fifteen miles from the house. While I normally would have no problem going fifteen miles on my bike, this was fifteen miles on a busy rural highway with no shoulder, on an old steel bike, and I was hauling a load of crap in my courier bag. I wanted to be home at a reasonable hour and really cranked it. The day before, I had done a 25 miler on my road bike and my knees were tired. My commuting bike is not really made for distances over ten miles and needless to say, by hill number six I was hurting.
Anyhow, this morning I got up and I went downstairs in my usual fury, gathering my thoughts on how today's commute will go (it involves buses, and choices of stops, and preparation depending on what I am doing after work - today I have to go to the DMV to renew my license so it was going to involve a car, a bus, and my bike - D'OH!) and stopped to gaze out at my bike on the sunporch. Looking at the old girl, I had a terrible feeling. It was like, the kind of feeling one might get when one is pissed off at a loved one but loves that person and doesn't want to feel pissed off at them. I felt a mixture of resentment, exhaustion, and guilt. It is a sunny day. I don't have my daughter. I should ride. I should drive me and the bike up to the DMV, park there, ride from there up to the city where I work, take the bus back maybe... it was all so complicated and maybe I got up on the wrong side of the bed or something but suddenly, the bike said, "No." I know bikes can't talk, but I swear to god I thought I heard the bike say "No." It was very likely one of the cats or a bird or whatever, but it sounded distinctly negative and almost human. Kind of whiney. I went out and did my barn chores and came back and on my way in touched my bike briefly and heard it again. "No." I went back in and got the truck key and went out and started the truck. The bike seemed to sigh in relief.
Needless to say, I decided to leave her at home today. I got in and told my co-worker and she said, "maybe she just need a break from you, you know?"
:p
Anyhow, this morning I got up and I went downstairs in my usual fury, gathering my thoughts on how today's commute will go (it involves buses, and choices of stops, and preparation depending on what I am doing after work - today I have to go to the DMV to renew my license so it was going to involve a car, a bus, and my bike - D'OH!) and stopped to gaze out at my bike on the sunporch. Looking at the old girl, I had a terrible feeling. It was like, the kind of feeling one might get when one is pissed off at a loved one but loves that person and doesn't want to feel pissed off at them. I felt a mixture of resentment, exhaustion, and guilt. It is a sunny day. I don't have my daughter. I should ride. I should drive me and the bike up to the DMV, park there, ride from there up to the city where I work, take the bus back maybe... it was all so complicated and maybe I got up on the wrong side of the bed or something but suddenly, the bike said, "No." I know bikes can't talk, but I swear to god I thought I heard the bike say "No." It was very likely one of the cats or a bird or whatever, but it sounded distinctly negative and almost human. Kind of whiney. I went out and did my barn chores and came back and on my way in touched my bike briefly and heard it again. "No." I went back in and got the truck key and went out and started the truck. The bike seemed to sigh in relief.
Needless to say, I decided to leave her at home today. I got in and told my co-worker and she said, "maybe she just need a break from you, you know?"
:p