Off the seat of a bicycle
Chapter 39)   My best day riding a bike

My favorite bike memory of all time happened in Chicago in 1978: my car was in the shop for repairs and I rode 12 miles to work and 12 miles back home. It happened the day after a major winter snowstorm, and the temperature dropped to F -5º with a wind chill of -50º and the city advised everybody to stay indoors.

What a day. You could see your breath blown several feet out in front of you … and no way could I stay indoors and miss a crisper like that … so I decided to take the bike to work, and put on heavy clothing, stuffed my work shoes in my pockets and crunched out on the frozen snow. My boss didn’t need me that day, but I had to go.

The ride was fantastic that morning with very few vehicles on the snow-plowed roads. I battled a hard cross headwind and blowing ice crystals the whole way north, but the sun was rising and every breath made me feel alive. It was simply the love of riding and nature and challenge all rolled into one and I could hardly wait for the ride back home that night.

Earlier in the book, I told a story about a guy who pulled up behind me honking because I was in ‘his’ right wheel track during a snowstorm. This was the morning it happened.

There were no other cars on the road and the highway had three other empty lanes … but he wanted mine. And believe me, this is just ordinary car behavior folks.

It got dark before the store closed and I was worried about riding on the main highway that night because the snowplow hadn’t cut space for bicycles and you know how people drive crazy all hours of the day or night. The store owner offered me a ride but No-Way.

I didn’t want to miss something special that would never come my way again … which is how most people view their relationships with other people … but this is how I interact with nature.

I have to feel nature to understand the world. It’s my spiritual connection to everything. Off the seat of a bicycle, I can see people and interact vicariously; I can see the full trees and puddles of water, and smell the heat rising off the pavement during the summer. Riding a bike is like going for a giant walk through society. Every sense is enlightened, and everyone who rides a bike feels the same way.

I rode the snow-covered back-route instead of the main highway and just caught the homebound tailwind when a cop pulled me over for having no light. He told me to get off the road and up on the sidewalk (which had 7” of snow).

Normally I would get in the cop’s face over that BS, but I didn’t argue that night because it was dangerous cold. I shouldered the bike and jumped over the snow bank onto the sidewalk but as soon as he drove away, I put back on the road and pedaled anew.

Not to interrupt a fabulous experience, but here’s the point I want to make about the police. It was dangerous cold and he stopped to hassle me. Obviously I was very visible on an empty, white-covered road at 6 in the evening … so it wasn’t late at night and I was most likely headed home from work, yet he disrespected me with a hassle … without one concern for my peril in the cold!

That damn fool endangered my life: what if I didn’t have waterproof boots?

The policeman was forcing a person to enter the deep off-road snow … and without waterproof footwear, my feet would be wet and frozen within a half-hour. That policeman imperiled a man’s life beyond the law-and-order he claims to defend … and this is the ignorance that makes the police dangerous to people who travel the street.

But moreover, it’s aggravating when some fellow steps into my world for a moment, dishes up a platter of fresh manure and then drives off comfortably in a car using two fingers and his big toe.

I firmly believe every cop and aggressive driver should be put on a bike for 100 hours. Not 100 miles, 100 hours. Let those guys put down a thousand+ miles and see how the roadway works before they come around flipping cow burgers on somebody they don’t know.

I think if the courts mandated the 100 hours, there would be a whole lot more people waving-friendly at bicyclists while using all five digits on their hand.

Aside from the hassle, the ride was beautiful that night. The roads were empty and the snow created a fairyland of sparkle from the streetlamps and houses, and it was absolutely magical. It was all over too quick in the short nine miles to Deerfield, where I had to turn west into the wind.

Wow, as soon as the wind cut across my face, I knew it was colder than the morning. The grocery store beckoned and I bought a gallon of milk but discovered my gloves were too heavy to carry the milk plus ride one-handed against the wind.

I walked the last three miles home and the gallon of milk froze solid in that short time. No wonder our forefathers didn’t live long in nature … but true adventures like the one that day let me see and feel what people around the world and throughout history have endured to make our lives possible.

Just like the experience in Wayne’s cave when I could feel the timelessness carved in the cavern walls; that day in Chicago let me touch the face of history forever. And that’s why I ride a bike … to see and feel things in a way no human interaction can provide.

However this personal mandate to explore the world in a disassociative manner was bound to find trouble … and I found my share, and have stories too numerable to re-tell from that brief year and nine months in Chicago.

How could I not have endless stories when one short trip to work-and-back on a snowy day contained two negative encounters with car drivers?

40-41) Suede-Brown
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