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.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Halftime entertainment
While you're waiting for that Eastern European furniture story, here's something to do:
Move your right foot around in a clockwise circle.
Now move your right hand to make a number six in the air.
Those of you who’ve been reading my blog since this time last year will recall my record completion of the Seattle to Portland bike tour in fifteen minutes . For additional proof, see even more photos of that event. I declined to participate this year, knowing there was no way I could top my previous performance. Tomorrow I’ll share with you this year’s feat, which was Seattle to Portland in four hours – which I accomplished weekend before last on a train. Anything but a car.
One thing we cyclists notice a lot is fire hydrants. I think fire hydrants are so cute that I seriously thought about starting a blog just about them. I know all the different models and vintages and where they live. Imagine my excitement when I was privileged with a peek into how fire hydrants are transported!! I must admit I’d never given it a second’s thought. Who sees a fire hydrant and wonders how those things get from one place to another? But I could’ve sworn I saw a whole truckload of them pass by me going the other way on Broadway. Luckily, just this one time I was in my car. I say luckily because the truck headed right onto I-84, and who knows what would have happened had I forgotten myself and tried this stunt on my bike. Before I was even sure I was seeing correctly, I flipped a U-ie in the middle of Broadway and hopped onto the freeway after it. Now one thing I’m not good at is multi-tasking of any kind, and I do not recommend it for anyone except if sitting at a desk, indoors, surrounded by easy access to dialing 911. I especially do not encourage or engage in it when operating heavy machinery. Ever. I only did it this one time in my life, for your benefit, for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m pretty good at working that camera by now – I can do it with my eyes closed. Which is almost what I did here, because though my eyes were wide open, I was focusing on the road and not on the camera’s viewfinder. These were all completely blind shots, every one of them. Stuck my arm out and clicked away. So there you have it. Now, thanks to my bravery, you know about a whole area of life you were ignorant of until now.
"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.