An authentic exchange
between two objects of amusement
In an attempt to mix it up a bit and get more exercise out of my daily bike time, I've been exploring some alternate routes on my ride home lately. Pedaling along at night on quiet, unlit country roads is one of my favorite things to do and I mostly feel pretty safe doing it. There are very few cars and no pedestrians at all out there – just me and my bike and my glow-in-the-dark jacket, and my bike lights. If someone wants to run out of the bushes and jam a stick in my spokes, that would be awful, but I don't worry too much about a thing like that happening; mostly what I try to take precautions against is getting creamed by a car. Being highly visible helps a lot with that, especially at night.
It does strike me as funny that a person as averse to being "seen" as I am would think nothing of walking around the grocery store in a blaring neon jacket, or riding down a long open road, all lit up like a Christmas tree. Just goes to show a person can get used to anything – good to remember.
On New Year's Eve I was heading home post-pub, and was waiting for a light to change so I could turn left onto the county road that takes me the last half-mile before the turn-off to our road. As I stood there a blue truck pulled up next to me, waiting to turn right. It was a big, practical farm truck of the kind that actually gets used to haul stuff around and pull things out of bogs, and it was driven by a big, practical-looking farm-type boy in his early 20s, wearing a straw-flecked Carhart jacket and a pair of enormous sideburns. I nodded the usual greeting, then turned back to watch the light. Then I felt that feeling you get when somebody is staring at you, and I looked again, and he was still looking at me.
My first thought was, "Did I do something stupid on the road back there? Is he going to yell at me and call me an idiot and tell me I should be riding on the sidewalk?" This has been known to happen. But it didn't happen that night. Instead, he smiled.
"You're sure all flared up!" he said.
Maybe because I'd been half-expecting abuse, it was just thrilling to hear that. It made me want to laugh with happiness! He'd obviously come up the road behind me, on a half-mile section that is straight and level, but also narrow, unlit and closely crowded with trees. And he had seen me up ahead of him, all flared up as he said, probably from a long way off. And he didn't tell me I'm an idiot. He smiled, and seemed to be amused by me. And I was amused by him, too. The truck, the jacket, the sideburns – I have a real soft spot for this style of hippie-redneck farm-boy kind of kid.
Not knowing what else to say, I smiled back and said: "Yes, I am!"
Then he did the two-fingered salute, and nodded and smiled again, and made his turn. And I did the same, and made mine.
It does strike me as funny that a person as averse to being "seen" as I am would think nothing of walking around the grocery store in a blaring neon jacket, or riding down a long open road, all lit up like a Christmas tree. Just goes to show a person can get used to anything – good to remember.
On New Year's Eve I was heading home post-pub, and was waiting for a light to change so I could turn left onto the county road that takes me the last half-mile before the turn-off to our road. As I stood there a blue truck pulled up next to me, waiting to turn right. It was a big, practical farm truck of the kind that actually gets used to haul stuff around and pull things out of bogs, and it was driven by a big, practical-looking farm-type boy in his early 20s, wearing a straw-flecked Carhart jacket and a pair of enormous sideburns. I nodded the usual greeting, then turned back to watch the light. Then I felt that feeling you get when somebody is staring at you, and I looked again, and he was still looking at me.
My first thought was, "Did I do something stupid on the road back there? Is he going to yell at me and call me an idiot and tell me I should be riding on the sidewalk?" This has been known to happen. But it didn't happen that night. Instead, he smiled.
"You're sure all flared up!" he said.
Maybe because I'd been half-expecting abuse, it was just thrilling to hear that. It made me want to laugh with happiness! He'd obviously come up the road behind me, on a half-mile section that is straight and level, but also narrow, unlit and closely crowded with trees. And he had seen me up ahead of him, all flared up as he said, probably from a long way off. And he didn't tell me I'm an idiot. He smiled, and seemed to be amused by me. And I was amused by him, too. The truck, the jacket, the sideburns – I have a real soft spot for this style of hippie-redneck farm-boy kind of kid.
Not knowing what else to say, I smiled back and said: "Yes, I am!"
Then he did the two-fingered salute, and nodded and smiled again, and made his turn. And I did the same, and made mine.
Labels: bikes
2 Comments:
what a great moment! i'm still smiling just thinking about it!
me too!
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