Journal of a mature, non-Olympic woman in the process of converting to cycling as a method of daily transportation. Dealing with weather and assorted perils; exploring equipment, psychological fortitude, and diet; experiencing our surroundings on a smaller, closer scale; saving gas & boycotting the car industry.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
One solution to side lighting
I found these illuminating leg/arm bands at Bike Gallery. I don’t have the brand name with me right now, so I’ll fill that information in later. They’re a little spendy - thirteen dollars for one – so I’ve only bought one so far. Thor knows I've already spent half a million dollars on other lights. Here it is modeled by Joe the Cat. I’ve seen them used on other animals outdoors. In the pitch of night I’ll see one of these things trot by on some animal's neck – just the orange band I'll see floating along, as if by itself. Meaning of course that without it I would see nothing – which is why our poor little animules get run over by cars. So if you have a furry friend you let outdoors at night, this is a good gadget for them too. I wear mine on my upper left arm, but I want to wear four of them for complete side-visibility. (I’m saving up.) The thing is unbelievably brilliant orange. You can set it to blink or not blink, and the battery is replaceable for about five dollars. (I made sure of that – I ain’t buying no disposable stuff that wears out in two weeks and then goes into the landfill.) I even take mine with me if I’m out walking. As a driver I’m acutely aware of how invisible pedestrians are, and how, like many cyclists, they’ll dress all in black and dart around thinking they’re safe because the cars have headlights. The unpopular truth is that no one over twelve should be driving a Moving Metal Deathtrap in the dark.
"She's no spring chicken," my mother would disclose mercilessly about women in their thirties trying to impersonate youth. Now, I'm even past the no-spring-chicken age. So don't think you have to be 12 to start riding a bike everywhere. I'm working out all the pesky details for you in case you want to do this yourself. But even if you never do it, you'll still know what it's like because I'm going to shrink you down to the size of a little rubber elf and glue you onto my handlebars. No changing your mind, no matter how much you beg me. So don't even start this unless you're sure you have the guts.
PS: My other bike is a broom.
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