It was dark and rainy this morning. I like riding in the cover of it when it’s not cold. It’s like riding in a dream but being awake. I remember being wistful last spring as the days got longer and brightened up my morning ride because I had like pedaling in the darkness so much.
Yep, today I almost bit it. I’m dead serious. Dump truck almost took me out. I was braking hard, dragging my feet, anything to stop before this fucker, who I don’t know how he didn’t see me except that he wasn’t looking, plastered me to his grill. And believe me, there would have been no walking away from it. Dumb luck for me that the dumb ass stopped his 5 ton vehicle at the last minute.
It was super fucking weird, though. The feeling I had staring at the truck and trying to stop. Not like the movies at all. I felt flat, underwhelmed, kinda pissed. A huge sense of “No way, man. I can’t believe this is it.” Had that same feeling years ago in a car accident. I was driving back from Indy to Btown with Licia and my jeep spun out on an ice patch on 67. It was so damn quiet in the jeep while we spun around. And I remember thinking, fuck, we’re gonna roll. Could die. Could very well die.
Summer here sure is sexy. She lulls you into forgetting about the other 8 or 9 months of the year. I’d say she’s got a bit of a siren’s call. I finished up Pedalpalooza by going to the Multnomah County Bike Fair on Saturday and the big bike party later that night hosted by Portland’s own Sprokettes. The attendance at both events was skewed toward the hipsters and bike freaks, a bike cap appears to be di regueur for this crowd. But it was fun all the same. The party included a lot of live entertainment by these bike related dance groups and some non-bike related acrobats, who were very good. It was kind of like a high school talent show for adults. Or maybe a county fair talent show. And it was fun. It reminded me that there must have been a time when folks relied much more on other folks in their community for entertainment and the connection there feels different than say paying to see a band.
I’m gearing up for another butch blog or darkness blog or maybe I’ll try and string the two together. Ha!
This girl I like, the one I’ve mentioned here before, the one who lives really far away, well yesterday she told me, “you’re so fucking sweet”, and I think that might have made my day today. That comment in isolation is likely not the best representation of why she moves me, but she does and one of these days I think I’ll talk about her a little more here.
I know the title of this post makes no sense, but the lyric popped into my head and I liked how it sounded.
I did a butt load of riding this weekend, both just to get where I needed to get to and as part of Pedalpalooza. On Sunday I , along with about 15,000 other people, attended on of the most terrific events I’ve been to since I moved to Portland. Inspired by CicloVia in Bogota city officials organized Sunday Parkways in which six miles of local streets in North Portland were closed to traffic from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m.
I’m pretty sure it’s been over a week since I’ve been in my car. And I count my self as lucky on that note, especially when I’m feeling so lost and being on my bike almost always feels so right.
Taking a break from writing about darkness and neurosis cause this weekend I got my freak on. It was first weekend for Pedapalooza and it was also Pride here. The two events crossed paths on Saturday when I packed (translation for folks who don’t know what packing means, it means I harnessed up my nice big bendable cock under my pants) and rode my bike down to the Dyke march and then pedaled over to participate in my first Naked Ride. I heard that Portland had about 2600 riders, which means we might have topped out with the biggest ride. Topless dykes in the sunset and bare asses in the moonlight. If Portland’s got one thing going for it, it’s that it’s not uptight about nudity. And while I’m not a naked enthusiast, I think it’s nice to lighten up a bit on our bare bodies. Anyway, a little freedom and a little freakiness - I’m gonna call it a good day.
I did Reach the Beach on Saturday. My legs and lungs were fine, but that much time in the saddle and bent over my drop bars sure lent to some soreness and I was happy for the breaks we got every 15 miles. The breaks also helped manage a beautiful but hot day. One of the other riders said at one point the thermometer on her bike registered 96 degrees. But all in all it was a great ride. I’ve hiked quite a bit around here, but I’ve never ridden so close to the land and it was moving to do so, on many levels. Thanks again to everyone who donated some money toward the cause.
I had this realization last night riding home from yoga. As much we make might make plans to mark events or celebrate the milestones in our lives, ya know that trip to Europe you’ve always wanted to take or your big 40th birthday bash, much of life is about the getting from here to there, taking things out and putting them away, saying good morning and good evening to your co-workers and students, washing your clothes, wearing them, and then washing then again. And it’s best to find some way to bring meaning and joy to that minutia. The grand stuff is icing on the cake of a life that doesn’t owe us a damn thing.
I think that’s why I like being a bike commuter. It brings some meaning to getting from here to there and back. I notice things, like the way the new glass towers on the waterfront rise up like a sci-fi poster behind the old Victorians that line the streets of my yoga studio. I feel the weather and when it’s raining and everyone’s griping I get to be the badass that shows up in the grocery line, wet and splattered with some grime. And even when it kicks my ass like it did last night, I get grounded in my body, heart beating, lungs breathing, legs pumping as I move myself through space on my elegant, efficient machine.
I love riding into work in the dawn when it’s not raining. The sky is all hazy, mixed in purple, blue, grey and black, and everything in the distance is soft and dreamy. The office and street lights have not quite yielded to the morning, so in pedaling over the river, the Willamette shimmers and looks almost romantic. This morning I heard birds reminding me that Portland’s spring, as understated as it is to me, is starting to show itself. By the time I arrive to the big building where I work on the edge of the industrial section in the northwest, the blanket of daybreak is nearly lifted, and I slip upstairs in relative quiet and sometimes watch sun-up’s ending.
Ever since I bought my new bike, I get so much more play from the bike mechanics. It almost always starts with “how do you like your Surly”, and from there it’s not unusual to be on the listening end of some crazy touring story about riding to California with one pannier or riding from Washington to Canada with a fanny pack.
I do think I’m sliding into some serious bike geekiness, something I think I mentioned earlier, because I’m trying to figure out if I can swing buying a back-up bike, especially after seeing this Raliegh.
Ok, I’m being dramatic. I didn’t really almost get clipped on the way home, but I had a guy try to turn right on me from my left side as I was moving into the left lane and a woman on her fucking cell phone abruptly swerve in and out of the bike lane about 6 feet in front of me. This was after getting my 5th flat since October, leaving me to walk about 16 blocks in the pouring rain to spend another $50 on a better tire and a new tube, something I just did that yesterday for the back tire. Oh, and I wiped out on some train tracks where DOT has diverted the multi-use path I use to go back and forth to work.
On the very soggy walk to REI to fix my flat, I was indulging in anger and indignation, but I did try for a moment to empathize with all the folks who were out there in this miserable shit, without any raingear or a bike they could afford to get fixed and ride back to their homes. Homeless folks, runaways and addicts trying to score. I had about 2 minutes of compassion.