Ride On

 I was on my way out to hop on my bicycle when that old resentment rose up: If I had an electric car, I wouldn't have to get up an extra ten minutes earlier to pedal my old carcass up and down the hills to school every day. 

And just as quickly, the angel on my shoulder began chirping about how much good I was doing the world by continuing to commute by bike. Gas savings. Exercise. Insurance. Being a good role model for all the kids at school. 

Yeah, but a radio. And a heater. And ten less minutes of exertion every morning. 

The angel chirped back: What about those days when you're invigorated by the ride home and working off all that added stress? You love that. 

That's true. But what a relief it would be to not have to dodge traffic and all those idjits in their shiny metal boxes acting as if the roads were their exclusive domain. Double parking. Pulling out in front of whoever they feel like. Roaring up behind folks on two wheels and reminding them in the most colorful language possible that this is their exclusive domain. 

Of course, that would put me back in the race with all the other idjits. I would like to say that because of my unique perspective as a bike commuter for all these years that I am somehow more evolved than those whose perspective is limited to their safe space inside their own vehicle. I would like to sat that. But I have also been made aware, occasionally, of just how easy it is to fall into the crack of doom that is rush hour malaise. If you turn the radio up loud enough, you can hardly hear the screams of the poor souls you almost hit or the curses from those you just cut off. 

So, I went on down to the basement, and pushed the voices in my head to the back and focused on getting my helmet, turning on my front light and back flasher, and rolled my sleek machine out for another day of dodging and weaving. 

Survival can be so exhilarating.