Yesterday I found myself blinking sometime in the afternoon and opening my eyes to a world filled with annoyances and let downs. I wondered to several of my friends if perhaps it was too much caffeine - maybe a disillusionment of some sort started it out. For the first few moments I gave in - and it consumed me. Despite feeling against the idea, I made myself bike home from work. Typically this revives me - makes me happy to be active and outdoors and not on the train.
Unfortunately my slow and happy summer route (found out of sheer need to avoid the arterial bike lane street that squishes bikers between parking meter spots and one lane of traffic) lead me into a confrontation with a woman who had a large book open and was driving with her interior lights on. I made her roll down her window, consciously maintained my composure and niceties, and wanted to make sure she wasn't driving and reading. She told me I wasn't supposed to be riding in the "industrial corridor" and wrongly assumed I had no lights. Once corrected - she told me my Planet Bike lights should be replaced with "bigger ones".
Things only got worse after I stopped at a local bike shop to pick up a nicer headlight - and was honked at and run out of my lane by a car with a "support cyclists - share the road" bumper sticker. I think the old white car was purchased by some young kid who failed to get rid of the bright yellow signage on the bumper. Joel had the unfortunate displeasure of dealing with me when I stormed home declaring how much I hated Chicago and biking here. My words made no sense but sounded angry and resentful of this city's pace and flow and traffic and selfishness. It took until way after my fingers were bleached and pruney from a very hot shower to calm me down.
But today is a new day. And it is sunny out. And life is short. I read this today (courtesy of the New York Times).
“He loved the street more than anything.”
It helped that he had a voice like a radio announcer’s. “His voice really carried,” Mr. Hughes said. “Joe would say to me, ‘You have to not be afraid to talk to yourself out loud.’ He said that once he started talking out loud, somebody would stop, and once he had one, he’d have a crowd, and once he had a crowd, he’d sell peelers.”
It reminded me how swift - and how full of delightful people I'll never meet - life is. I'll try my best to remember the good ones when all I want to do is fly away from the mean ones in Chicago.
Wishing you reminders of the good - whether in the big city, or tucked on the side of Cinderella Mountain...
Love love love,
K.
