Kinetic Aggravation

It happens every single time. I’ll even walk, just to avoid this. When I’m venturing out at the beginning of each sunny (or more likely cloudy, rainy, or snowy) day, I hop on my trusty (rusty) bike, and set off with high optimism (like a dog going to the veterinarian’s office to be neutered). I have to yank my bike out of my house (which is easier than cramming it back into the house), past a wooden door and past the always annoying screen one, until it’s finally outside and the doors are locked (and hopefully I have all my things with me—most importantly my key). If I had an extra arm, this job would not be quite so bad. At that time in the morning, it’s always too cold, too hot, too bright, too dark, too wet, too snowy, too muddy, or too something. When I start to push on the pedals, I notice that I’m actually much more tired than I thought. I’m also much more aggravated. Tired people get aggravated easily. I get angry at the blade of grass that’s stuck to my tire: the little piece of green flashing as the wheel rotates. I might even stop my bike to peal it off and tear it in two—just show that dumb blade of grass. Then, just as I’m building up my momentum, I get to the corner—oh, that corner.

A deadly alley to pull out of-->

(Actually, this is not my alley--
it's Patches's.)

Before we pass the corner, I need to pause and make a note about this: To those of you who do not have to bike anywhere each day—even if you go biking often—let me tell remind you that momentum is a very important thing when you’re biking. It’s just about everything. Also: it doesn’t get more important the faster you go; it gets important the angrier you get. Angry people (or rather, angry muscles) can be very strong, but very unwilling to cooperate and do difficult work. If they actually do the work, then they pout and throw a fit. When you’re using your bike as transportation, and not just leisure, then rotating those pedals becomes less fun with each turn. You start to notice every single one.

So, I’m just getting to the corner. It’s a common, everyday street corner. I get to the end of the street, and I turn right. It should not be a big deal—oh, but it is. It’s a pain because this is just as I have worked up enough momentum to get me to this horrid corner. Due to the speed at which I am usually going, I like to take a nice, wide turn. If I take a tight turn, then that means all my momentum will be lost, and my already tired and pissed off muscles will have to start up all over again. I try to be nice to my muscles. They may not win any competitions (except against small babies—but not those really strong babies: they scare me), but they help me out sometimes. So, ideally, I would lean my bike over and form a happy, easy arc around the corner, and go on my cheerful way.

This is not that first corner, but it's a deadly one I must pass many mornings.-->

Ideally I would do this; but I promise you: each and every time I go to make this turn, there is a car going down the street right at the exact time. This means I do not have time to make my graceful curve. I’m forced into squeezing the breaks, bending to the left slowly, only to have to regain lost momentum. No amount of specialized nutrition bars (specialized for either gender) will cheer up thigh muscles one and two. It’s pretty much set that they’re going to be grumpy for the whole morning, and I have to deal with them.

If this were a busy road, then I would just know that I am going to have to make the turn each time. It’s not a busy road, though. Very few cars come down it, and when I look before I turn each morning, I can see that there are no other cars in front or behind. It’s just the one blasted car, as if the devil waits for me to leave and puts one there, and perhaps he has nothing better to do than to slow me down each morning. So, each time I go to the road, I optimistically (remember how I used to be optimistic) turn with high expectations of floating around to the next street.

I’ve tried beginning my curve sooner so that by the time I get to the street, I’ll be mostly facing in the same direction. It doesn’t work for a few reasons. The main reason is that when I am building up precious momentum, it is not a good time to be turning. Secondly, there are often too many things in the way. Thirdly, even if I’m mostly turned, I’m still not turned enough so that I don’t have to slow down. Lastly, I’m not really thinking about a car coming because of my stupid optimism.

It’s enough that I have to stop at other times when cars decide to turn, ignore me, and turn right in front of me. It’s enough that I have to stop for all the other obstacles that one passes when biking. I’d like, though, to not have to disappoint my optimistic thigh muscles right from the start. I dream of a morning when there is no car there. I have been dreaming for many, many mornings: I hardly even need to turn. I just drift around, and make my way back to the correct side of the road whenever I please. What a glorious morning!