Cross your fingers, light a candle, conjure me some good Karma - whatever you subscribe to, I could probably use it. In hopes of un-funking my mood - whoops, go back and read that right this time - I brought my bike to work with me today so I could ride home. The sunny skies and temps in the 60's were just too tempting.
It's not been going so well, though. I already made a nuisance of myself this morning trying to figure out how to operate the bike rack on the front of the bus. I'm pretty sure that the writing of the rack instructions was outsourced to Punjabian monkeys because they left me totally baffled. The bus driver had to unbuckle his own chubby self from the driver's seat and come out of the bus to show me how it works. All his wild gestures through the window did nothing but distract me from my work and confuse me further. Okay, I couldn't take the pressure. My brain seized up at the thought of the 5 people already on the bus cussing me out for slowing down their commute.
Those bus drivers want you to believe that they are all crabby because they don't really like bike commuters in the first place - especially dumb ones, but from what I observed I think they just don't like to leave their seats because it takes them about 5 miles to get all their 'parts' readjusted back into the proper place on the driver's seat. It appears bus drivers are somewhat like automobile nose pickers in their belief that no one sees what they are doing.
I won't talk about what happened when I took my bike OFF the rack. My ego won't allow it but as I walked my steed the 20 yards from bus to office building, I must have rolled over something sharp because I recently noticed that one of my tires is flat and now I remember that what I DIDN'T see in my little bike ditty bag was a repair kit, which means I will have to present myself to one of the bike-heads in the building as not only a nitwit, but an unprepared nitwit. They will probably ask to see my helmet and my insurance card before they help me out.
All this comes on the heels of assessing my scars from last summer's ass-over-handlebars manuever and deciding that the marks really haven't faded much over the winter. Last night I briefly worried about the possibility of another asphalt encounter, but isn't life too short to worry about what MIGHT happen? I'm also thinking that my legs are so WHITE that drivers couldn't possibly miss the sight of me.... unless the brightness blinds them! Or what if some crazy Hummer gets a look at me and thinks 'Mmmm, look at all that tasty white meat for the taking at the road-kill grill!'
There's also the possibility that I could go into cardiac arrest around mile 13.
I'll let you know if I make it home.
Maybe I should just take the bus....