These Are the Lengths I Must Go to Justify Wearing My Earl Blumenauer Bike Pin
CJ scored me a ticket for to see an advanced screening of Prince Caspian last night. I highly recommend the film for those parents looking to take the kids to their first Mel Gibson flick. I'm pretty sure I heard High King Peter yelling to the Narnian troops, "They may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom!"
I rode my bike on the way back. Whooooooa, let's scooch back for a second. My whoozawhat now? Yup, I'm such a good American that rather than using my stimulus check to pay off my credit card debt (my original plan), I decided to celebrate Ride Your Bike to Work Day a week early and buy a bike made in China. Go America!
I've spent most of the week questioning my purchase. It hasn't been a whole lot of fun so far. Riding around is an uphill battle, and not just because Northwest DC mysteriously seems to be laid out entirely on an incline. I'm from Chicago, a place so flat that you can see the Sears Tower to your right and the Rockies to your left. I don't really do hills. And while physical therapy is great for correcting a gimp walk, but it's not so great for building cardio endurance. The difficulty of riding is compounded by the eighty pound lock I have to carry around on my back. Through my wheezing, I have to keep reminding myself that it was just a few months ago that I could barely walk, so I'm lucky to be riding at all, and that the lactic acid burning my hamstrings is a privilege. My heart rate is also tripled by the fact that DC drivers are fueled by schadenfreude and really, really want to knock me over. And when I'm not actively riding my bike, I'm terrified it'll get stolen, like my last one did. They say DC is a bike-friendly town, but I've been on edge all week.
So last night, after riding some time on Wisconsin Avenue next to a semi (harrowing), I turned onto Garfield, which has a bike lane. A cab full of rowdy drunks drove by me with the windows open and the boys reaching their arms out of the car, ostensibly trying to knock me over. The passengers yelled at me to get on the sidewalk. I passed the cab at the next light; it then passed me again with the yelling and the reaching. Again, I passed them at the next light. The dance continued for a few miles until I stopped next to the cab at the intersection where Calvert meets up with Rock Creek Parkway. I asked the passengers how it felt to know that they had to pay twenty bucks to get to their destination slower than me. I didn't stick around for their response, and last I saw, they were stuck behind me for good at yet another red light. I felt pretty pleased with myself. The glow washed off this morning as I rode to work in the rain. Too bad my Earl Blumenauer bike pin doesn't keep me dry.
I rode my bike on the way back. Whooooooa, let's scooch back for a second. My whoozawhat now? Yup, I'm such a good American that rather than using my stimulus check to pay off my credit card debt (my original plan), I decided to celebrate Ride Your Bike to Work Day a week early and buy a bike made in China. Go America!
I've spent most of the week questioning my purchase. It hasn't been a whole lot of fun so far. Riding around is an uphill battle, and not just because Northwest DC mysteriously seems to be laid out entirely on an incline. I'm from Chicago, a place so flat that you can see the Sears Tower to your right and the Rockies to your left. I don't really do hills. And while physical therapy is great for correcting a gimp walk, but it's not so great for building cardio endurance. The difficulty of riding is compounded by the eighty pound lock I have to carry around on my back. Through my wheezing, I have to keep reminding myself that it was just a few months ago that I could barely walk, so I'm lucky to be riding at all, and that the lactic acid burning my hamstrings is a privilege. My heart rate is also tripled by the fact that DC drivers are fueled by schadenfreude and really, really want to knock me over. And when I'm not actively riding my bike, I'm terrified it'll get stolen, like my last one did. They say DC is a bike-friendly town, but I've been on edge all week.
So last night, after riding some time on Wisconsin Avenue next to a semi (harrowing), I turned onto Garfield, which has a bike lane. A cab full of rowdy drunks drove by me with the windows open and the boys reaching their arms out of the car, ostensibly trying to knock me over. The passengers yelled at me to get on the sidewalk. I passed the cab at the next light; it then passed me again with the yelling and the reaching. Again, I passed them at the next light. The dance continued for a few miles until I stopped next to the cab at the intersection where Calvert meets up with Rock Creek Parkway. I asked the passengers how it felt to know that they had to pay twenty bucks to get to their destination slower than me. I didn't stick around for their response, and last I saw, they were stuck behind me for good at yet another red light. I felt pretty pleased with myself. The glow washed off this morning as I rode to work in the rain. Too bad my Earl Blumenauer bike pin doesn't keep me dry.
posted by The Goo at 1:49 PM
2 Comments:
At least yout bike didn't get kniicked two dats after you bought it in broad daylight in DC. following the thief breaking the $25 lock with his bare hands... (assumed in the absence of any kind of tool marks on the lock)
...
At least yout bike didn't get kniicked two dats after you bought it in broad daylight in DC. following the thief breaking the $25 lock with his bare hands... (assumed in the absence of any kind of tool marks on the lock)
...
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