So I am pedaling along, downhill but still pedaling since my bicycle set up allows nothing else, and an operator of a motor vehicle stops in a drive before entering the road, looks, doesn’t see me, starts to go, I yell “HEY!,” operator stops, tells me to relax, and I yell “YOU ALMOST RUN ME OVER AND YOU WANT ME TO RELAX? JESUS! F*** THAT!” Oh.
Dear motor vehicle operator, my voice is my horn. If you don’t want to hear me yell “HEY” or “STOP,” don’t act like you are going to hit me. If you are stopped, stay stopped until I have passed. I watch your wheels (they are the easiest place to pick up motion). If you start to go, I react. Sometimes I yell to wake you up. If profanity bothers you, don’t tell me to relax after acting like you were going to hit me. I was relaxed until you acted like you were going to hit me. I am no longer relaxed and your advice makes thing worse.
The “HEY” was great. Probably saved a collision. The rest was not so good. I try hard to avoid the use of profanity when pedaling. Try to be a good ambassador, right? Being told to relax after almost getting hit was simply too much.
No one in the liquor store parking lot looked my way. Maybe they were keeping their heads down while dodging the thick ropes of fire gushing from the holes that used to house blue eyes.
I was disappointed in myself. My disappointment made itself small in the corner to leave room for the buckets of adrenaline my drum roll heart beat force fed every corner of my being, but it was there. Under the circumstances, I forgave myself.
Does the name of the gin seem a little too perfect under the circumstances? It wasn’t a set up. I meant to buy Death’s Door to go with the tonic I bought earlier in the day. I had the gin once before. It has some heavy fennel going on–a real stand out and worthy of sharing a glass with what turned out to be some very wonderful tonic. What I didn’t know is that I’d have to cheat death to buy the gin. Let’s say I earned this bottle.
More relaxation to follow. Happy Sunday.