I'm in a mood. So you may want to lock up your wives, children, and small dogs. Cause this post is going to blow your dress up, your hair back, and your eyebrows off. You've been warned.
It was a lovely morning in DC as I descended into Rock Creek Park for my usual mid-week blow out of the aerobic tubes. My shoes even managed to stay squeak-less for more than hour in the humidity. This was bordering on momentous; I credit the previously discussed new pair. Then I headed up and out toward home. Bad move.
One block I was told Nice Form.
Why thank you! I'm glad someone appreciates my rear-fore-foot landing and land-load-lift....wait a sec...you're wearing Timbalands and clothing that on average is two sizes too big. I doubt you would recognize nice form if it ran past you in a burqa.
Down by the intersection I was informed that I jiggle well.
WHOA. Exactly what I wanted to hear, smooth operator. Hallmark is calling. They want you for their Valentines 2011 campaign.
One block later the road narrows (one lane only, no parking) with sidewalks on either side. I am running on the sidewalk, facing on-coming traffic. And a guy driving a panel van watches me approach and when I reach him, not before and not after, but when I get even with him, he spits. Not on me, or I might be spending the night in jail, but certainly not in his Big Gulp. I heard it, I saw it, and figured no matter what, I was already taking a shower anyhow and just kept on running.
Is that like your Michelin rating system? One loogie for "worth a stop," two for "worth a detour," and three for "worth a special trip"? Your consideration is appreciated, kind sir.
But the sheer gravity of what I apparently can't admire or understand for myself was made fully clear several hours later. Being car-less, I was biking to The Support Staff's house from the metro with all the trappings for a weekend get-and-train-a-way. I had a back pack on my back and duffel slung across my chest and balanced on my top tube to leave my knees free for pedaling. Despite the rain, a roofing contractor, driving in the opposite direction on the other side of the median, rolled down his window and honked incessantly. How do I know it was aimed at me? I was the only human being on that side of the block. It was either me or the squirrels.
Ok, now that you've got my attention, let's assess the situation. You're heading in the opposite direction. And driving a roofing contracting truck. I'm riding a bike. With 30 lbs of gear. On a small highway. In a thunderstorm.
If you're honking to tell me I'm all that plus the kitchen sink - and that my acerbic wit can remove paint from walls - get in line.
If you're honking to tell me I'm crazy and/or stupid, get in line.
Either way I'm just trying to get on with my life here.