The Healing Power of Cycling

I use a plastic shower cap as a cover for my leather saddle; it’s cheaper and less of a loss to lose than the official Brooks model. Over the years, I’ve gone through a number of caps and so, have become something of a connoisseur of them, at least insofar as they function as bicycle seat covers rather than hairdo water keeper-offers.

I’ve been quite happy with the one I’ve had of late; it’s a thicker vinyl than most models and while it doesn’t have the lacy edges that make some models so charming, the elastic around the bottom is quite strong, keeping the cover firmly affixed to its place on my bike even when my rig is on the front of a bus, hurtling down the highway at sixty-plus miles an hour.

Imagine my dismay, therefore, when I left school this afternoon and found that my shower cap had been taken from its seat where I’d left it this morning when I parked the bike. Even worse, it had apparently—at least going by physical evidence in the nearby trash can—been stripped from its place to be used as a makeshift rag to wipe dog shit from, I presume, someone’s shoes.

The thought that someone had selfishly grabbed my saddle cover to clean his shitty footwear and then simply tossed it in the trash seemed all-too-metaphorical for the way strangers regard each other these days and that depressed me considerably.

As I began my ride home, I muttered to myself about how disgusting the whole thing was, beginning, of course, with the asshole who let his dog shit where someone would step in it. Human society, it seemed to me, was exactly that: shit being passed from one unsuspecting sap to the next.

Soon enough, though, I found myself enjoying the afternoon’s ride, and while I didn’t forget all about the shit-swiper, I was able to imagine his predicament and so, in part, forgive him.