Good Weather

Someone offered me a ride home tonight (in a car, with space for my bike in the back), and I said no, though it was rainy and cold and I was on the fence.

Then I got on the bike and had the most glorious time. Well, maybe glorious is too strong a word. But I heard myself say, at the foot of the bridge, "Oh it's lovely out." I wasn't talking to anyone in particular - just the imaginary companion who hears all my best stuff. Maybe I was talking to my bike. I do that a lot, and I know I'm not the only one because I once ran into a fellow who was arriving by bicycle from British Columbia.

I felt so lucky to run into him. I got to ask him about his journey. I've wanted to do bicycle touring for quite some time, and I haven't managed to get out there yet, and he was encouraging and open about it.

He asked how long a trip I was planning, and I said 5 days, and he said that was the perfect length for a first journey. His exact words were something like, "It's just the right amount of time to have no one but the bike to talk to."

I loved that. I remember, too, that when I said I'd been looking forward all winter to the reward of summer weather (which we got very little of that year - it rained a lot), he said, "No, winter's the real reward."

In the brief little spell of mild sunny weather we had last week, I remembered again the curse of spring cycling: crowds.

The streets were suddenly clogged with fair-weather riders. The pedestrians were out in foolish droves, jumping out in front of me and waving their arms as if they thought that was a game. Drivers were distracted by the promise of summer, and perhaps by the fact that short skirts had suddenly resurfaced on some of the pedestrians.

And then it turned rainy and cold, and once again I had my privacy. A small handful of cyclists on one bridge, and a lone cyclist towing a trailer on the other.

I really did feel that it was a beautiful evening. The rain was refreshing on my face. It was quiet for a Friday night. I like the sound of tires, theirs (4) and mine (2), on wet pavement. I like the way everything shines.

And then I like being finally warm and dry and having the cat come over to curl and purr.

PS. Yes, those are bike wrenches weighing down the yarn. I had unraveled a project I wasn't happy with and then washed the skeins to straighten out the ripples. I was so tickled by the usefulness of tools from one love/obsession for another that I took a pic.