The title of this entry is for the benefit of my sister, who reads my LJ, and who might talk to Mom before I do next. Don’t need to make Mom worry 😉
Anyway.
I had the longest damn 3.5-mile bike ride of my fucking life this afternoon. We got something on the order of 6″ of snow (approx 15cm for those who use real measurements) and I had to ride home in it, with asphalt slicks on my bike. And it fucking sucked. Good god, did it suck. Nothing had been scraped, gravelled, or salted yet, yet it had been driven on plenty, so it was kind of rutted and packed down. When I could get on a side street where nobody had been driving much yet, and make my own rut, it was okay, and when I could ride offroad, it was real good, but when I had to ride on snowy, packed-down, rutted streets, with drivers all around me…well, that was about as far from amusing as I can really conceive of. Every stop sign or stoplight was the enemy, because I could stop, but I had the devil’s own time getting going again. Slicks are awesome on dry or damp pavement, but are useless as hen tits on thick, packed-down snow.
Also, road-hogs in SUVS and pickups can suck my frozen asscheeks. Both of them. At once. Fuckers. All but two cars gave me the lane-space I needed, but I actually got tailgated by one pickup truck and several Suburban-type SUVs tried to lane-split with me, something I don’t especially like on the best of days. What I wouldn’t have given for a pocket full of fencing staples. Now the two car-drivers who diced with me…they’ve each got a dose of bile dedicated to them. First, the jackass in the old, rusting Monte Carlo, with alternating banged-up panels in black and cream…YOU did not need to split the lane with me, and you DEFINITELY didn’t need to gun your engine and fishtail as you passed me. Fucker. Made me run into the gutter and wreck. And Mr. Preppy McFuckstick who tailgated me in his little aqua Neon for a block, laying on the horn. Yeah, I know you can’t register “the bird” through my gloves, but I was flipping it at you. And waving you past me. Fuck your horn, fuck your ugly little car, and fuck your pointy, smarmy head right up your constipated ass.
I’m changing out for my knobby tires tonight, and I may well ride the bus in the morning. Supposedly it’s slated to keep on snowing all night and on into the morning. And I lost my goggles, probably when I wrecked. I was going so slow they kept fogging up, so I took ’em off and slung ’em over my handlebars, and I lost them somewhere between downtown and home.
The only good thing about this ride was that it proved that my cold gear is righteous and mighty. I was perfectly comfortable all the way home, even though I couldn’t use my goggles. I had the foresight to wear the heavier balaclava and my super-duty gloves (over my biking gloves) and my tall Doc Martens, and that, in addition to my usual layers of Under Armour, wool sweater, Sugoi SubZero tights, windbreaker and fleece headband thingy were quite adequate. Oh, and I wore my normal pants and shirt over the tights and underarmour, then the sweater over the normal shirt. So I had like four layers on my torso and three on my legs, plus wool socks up to just below my knees and boots to the same height. Wearing a metric shit-ton of clothing ROCKS.