Sometimes its the little things that drive you mad; sometimes its something even smaller that puts things back into perspective.
So I was off to a recent meeting of the local Randonneuring club over the weekend. It seems in terribly bad form to drive to a bike club meeting that is only about 13 miles away, so Chiron and I set off in the middle of the afternoon. Cool, sunny, a 15mph head wind; you can't win them all, but it was looking like a good ride. Then, about a mile into the trip, my cycling computer fell off as I crossed some railroad tracks and that erased all the stored data. I was not amused.
Determined to not let that ruin the day, I picked my zeroed computer out of the street and got back on the move. I continued to fight the headwind as I made my way down the usual commuting route, and despite the wind, I was making decent time. Traffic was light, and even the sight of one of the scariest things a cyclist can see (a little old lady with her glasses in her hand, driving a Ford Crown Victoria), I was still in a decent mood. Then I got smacked upside the face by one of my biggest pet peeves; conscious, deliberate stupidity.
I can forgive ignorance; I can tolerate a significantly different point of view; I'll even stand up and defend someone's right to free speech, even when what they say is absolutely anathema to my understanding of things, but I cannot stand deliberate stupidity. So, making the turn on to the street where the microbrewery was (where else, I ask you, should Randonneurs meet), was John Q. Redneck, moron extraordinaire. No helmet, NASCAR baseball hat, yellow teeth (what there were of them) from a 2-pack-a-day habit, and a ruddy complexion most likely due to hypertension related to excessive alcohol intake. He was riding a department store B. S. O. (bicycle shaped object), which, along with everything else, I was more than willing to overlook. The problem was that he was riding the wrong way down a marked bike lane, right towards me.
Trying to be nice and not get into a confrontation, I got over towards the right side of the bike lane. So, of course, He got over towards the curb as well. Obviously, this person's mental capabilities were somewhere on the Bristol Stool scale, but I was about to find out that he was an actual type 7 on that scale. Since he was right in front of me, we had to stop. I proceeded to say, while trying to not sound too judgmental, "You're riding on the wrong side of the road."
"I DO NOT ride with traffic!" was his reply.
Okay, now I'm really annoyed. He just admitted that he knows the traffic laws (the ones written specifically to keep us all safe) and feels completely entitled to consciously break them and put others, namely me, at risk. Sorry Jack, but when your decisions put me at risk, you're going to hear about it. I proceeded to inform him of what I thought of his decision and his overall mental capabilities, and then I took off.
Now, I'm really grumpy. My cycling computer crapped out, and I had allowed myself to get into an abusive conversation with someone who probably didn't need someone like me yelling at him. Were Chiron and I playing by the rules, yes. Was he breaking the laws that govern road travel, absolutely. Could I have handled the situation differently, yep, but I didn't. Now I'm as annoyed at myself for loosing my cool as I was at the guy who caused me to loose it. Not really the best way to spend time on a bike.
Coming to a stop at the next traffic light (still correctly in the bike lane), I grab my water bottle and put my foot down to wait for the light to change. Hearing something odd, I turn around to see some Mensa candidate in a white sedan right behind me. He was attempting to make a right-turn on red by using the bike lane as a turn lane. Just shaking my head at this point, I turn around to see the light is now green. Not in any hurry, I pedaled off to the club meeting. I'm not at the point of saying, "I need a beer", but I am starting to consider the phrase.
The next stoplight was at the biggest intersection I have to navigate on my way. Left-turn lane, two straight-lanes, and a right-turn lane, coming from all 4 directions. I'm in the right hand straight-lane, which has sharrows instead of a bike lane. Waiting for the light to change, a young man and a few of his friends pull up in the right turn lane in a grey Ford crossover. He looks out the window, sizes me up, and says,
"Wana race?"
I looked over, not being able to contain a smile and a laugh, and said, "Sure, let's do it."
The light turned green, and we both took off. As I cleared the intersection, any remaining angst evaporated and I was once again my typical jovial, fun-loving, and sarcastic self. Sure, there were other silly things to deal with on that ride; there always are. The difference between a good ride and a bad one is largely decided by the rider, prior to the first pedal stroke. We point the handlebars the way we want to go, and that includes being a positive person. Most Randonneurs are like that. So...
Wana race?
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