Over the Handlebars — Part 1

Mundane adventures on the roads of Portland

30 June

Cycling across Portland on a summer afternoon, I saw an old man waiting in the hot sun in the middle of a downtown block. I thought of all the motorists who’d been so kind to me lately, and I stopped to let the man pass. As he doddered across the street, he paused in front of me and snarled “there’s no crosswalk here! You should not have stopped. It’s against the law!” I replied “I’m sorry acts of kindness piss you off, sir!”

25 August

Stuck in downtown traffic behind an SUV containing a very large dog, barking frantically at me through the rear window. I noticed it was wagging its tail, so I waved. It turned around, grabbed a stuffed bear and pressed it against the window, staring at me. I gave the dog a thumbs up and giggled all the way to work.

15 October

I’m riding toward you on my bicycle. You’re riding toward me on your bicycle. I’m focused on riding my bicycle despite one small glass of red wine sloshing around my head. You start riding no-handed on your bicycle, puffing out your chest and whistling with vibrato and wiggling your eyebrows at me. I totally lose my cool on my bicycle and start laughing. We pass each other on our bicycles and each ride into a different sunset entirely.

20 October

I was rolling down the bike lane past a school bus when the driver stuck his arm out the window just above my head, opened his mouth and let out a bellow that turned into a passable imitation of bad opera. As I zipped by, startled by the outburst, the Doppler effect was impressive.

30 October

The wind and the rain kicked into high gear as I crept along in low gear on the morning commute. Passing narrow side streets it sounded like large trucks were approaching at high speeds, but it was just the wind and the rain tearing through the trees. The crows were riding the winds like seagulls. I saw maybe five other cyclists (down from the usual 20–30), plowing into the wind in slow motion. Crossing the Hawthorne Bridge I nearly nearly hit a pedestrian as we both blew side to side like a couple of drunks. Downtown, umbrellas were inside out and potholes were full of water.

30 November

25F is a cold autumn day by Portland standards. Despite my warmest winter gloves, I lost feeling in my fingers. An asshat jockeyed his bike into position in front of me at a red light, nearly causing me to rear end him. Then he unleashed a mighty snot rocket onto the sidewalk without looking for pedestrians, nearly hitting the shoes of a woman who wasted no time in calling him the choice names he so richly deserved. He muttered “I didn’t see you” and proceeded to blow through the red light.

8 December

After yesterday’s rainpocalypse dumped 3.32 inches of water on Portland, spilling raw sewage and creating impromptu roadside waterfalls, the floods receded over night, leaving a snotty mash of leaves on the streets. This morning was a weirdly warm 57F and rains picked up the pace again. The ride to work felt like crawling three miles across a dirty, soggy washcloth.

2 February

On Groundhog Day I rolled out of my house just in time to observe a wasted guy belligerently lecturing a tree “I don’t play games and I don’t like French people.” The rest of the ride was sunny, cold, heavy on the traffic, thankfully light on pavement frost, and there was a sliver of moon hanging high up in the sky.