Monday, November 22, 2010


Our town has had a light dusting of snow and so predictably, everybody is freaking the fuck out what with weather people on TV issuing dire forecasts for an asteroid hitting the planet—er, a difficult commute tomorrow morning—and my school closing down at 3:30 in the afternoon so the kiddies can drive away before it gets all dark and slippery outside.

Just as predictably, I’m feeling all smug and self-satisfied for riding my bike home and not just because it allows me to halfway pretend I’m a goddamn fucking badass, but also because even though it took me a good half an hour longer than usual, I’m pretty sure I got home faster on two wheels than I would have had I taken the bus which, if reports are to be believed, languished on I-5 in traffic for at least an hour this afternoon.

The thing is, if truth be told, the ride home wasn’t really all that intense; while an inch or so of snow covered the Burke-Gilman trail in some places, mostly it was just wet and crunchy with incipient ice; the two-and-a-quarter-inch wide tires on the Hunqapiller hardly slipped at all, even while climbing. In fact, the main difficulty I faced was when sleet would build up between my tires and fenders, effectively braking my wheels, until I wheelied up and down to get them spinning freely again.

Also, while my body stayed warm beneath my wool undershirt and several layers on top, my little fingers, ears, and toes were freezing by the time I got home, but just enough to make me feel like I was having a real adventure, not enough to send me to the emergency room with frostbite or anything.

Tomorrow, of course, is going to be the real challenge; when the wet turns to black ice overnight, the roads are going to be skating rinks.

Fingers crossed for this year’s first snow day.


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