C
Claire Petersky
Guest
When I rode to work this morning, it was just a little colder than I expected. I was thinking,
mid-40s, light rain. It was more like upper 30s, light rain.
When I got off work, I was wheeling the bike out of the gloom of the garage, and noted, "wet
pavement". I emerged fully from the garage, and thought, "rain".
There's often a shock when I first start riding when I get off of work. Sure, there's sometimes
crises at work, but I usually have some time for decisions, and no one is going to die if I make a
mistake. But a half a block after coming out of the parking garage, there's a sudden immediacy to
everything. The rain is hammering at my body and the wind is whipping the bike. Cars are streaming
down Second Avenue, road construction on both sides of the street and a lane is blocked off, I'm
zipping along at 20 or 25 miles an hour in the stream of traffic, changing lanes, judging the speed
of the city bus, is that taxi actually going to turn left at the corner? Bam-bam-bam I have to make
decisions and there's a physical reality that my life could end right here if I screw up.
So, it was raining, and it started raining harder. It got colder. At some point, around Factoria, I
realized, it's sleeting. Little pellets of ice were striking my jacket. Some of it was snow. Some of
it was rain. It was probably hovering around the mid 30s, so the pavement was still very wet and
whooshes of rain were streaming off of my fenders as I traversed puddles. I waited at a light, where
there's an on-ramp to the freeway, and two lanes of left-turning traffic (I'm in the no. 2 lane of
these) and more lanes going straight. Lots of cars, and I'm being sleeted on while I'm waiting for
the light to turn. I start to laugh, which probably only cemented the verdict of "insane" among the
drivers in my immediate area.
I came down the hill a little slower than usual, maybe at 30 mph. The tiny icicles that were
pricking me before were now stabbing my face. ow! ow! ow! I was double gloved, but my fingers were
completely wet and frozen. For a few minutes I tucked them into the palm of my glove so they'd thaw
a bit, and hoped I didn't have to brake at any point.
By the time I was in the last mile before home, the storm started to slack. It was now turning back
to light rain.
When I got home, and peeled off my tights, my legs were bright red. Some sort of road grease had
penetrated my tights in spots, so I had these half-inch black blotches all over my shins and to some
extent, my thighs. It looked like I had some sort of weird skin disease.
Of course, the shower was like a religious experience. A vault of hot steam and water completely
renewing the body. Ah.
Warm Regards,
Claire Petersky [email protected] Home of the meditative cyclist at:
http://home.earthlink.net/~cpetersky/Welcome.htm
mid-40s, light rain. It was more like upper 30s, light rain.
When I got off work, I was wheeling the bike out of the gloom of the garage, and noted, "wet
pavement". I emerged fully from the garage, and thought, "rain".
There's often a shock when I first start riding when I get off of work. Sure, there's sometimes
crises at work, but I usually have some time for decisions, and no one is going to die if I make a
mistake. But a half a block after coming out of the parking garage, there's a sudden immediacy to
everything. The rain is hammering at my body and the wind is whipping the bike. Cars are streaming
down Second Avenue, road construction on both sides of the street and a lane is blocked off, I'm
zipping along at 20 or 25 miles an hour in the stream of traffic, changing lanes, judging the speed
of the city bus, is that taxi actually going to turn left at the corner? Bam-bam-bam I have to make
decisions and there's a physical reality that my life could end right here if I screw up.
So, it was raining, and it started raining harder. It got colder. At some point, around Factoria, I
realized, it's sleeting. Little pellets of ice were striking my jacket. Some of it was snow. Some of
it was rain. It was probably hovering around the mid 30s, so the pavement was still very wet and
whooshes of rain were streaming off of my fenders as I traversed puddles. I waited at a light, where
there's an on-ramp to the freeway, and two lanes of left-turning traffic (I'm in the no. 2 lane of
these) and more lanes going straight. Lots of cars, and I'm being sleeted on while I'm waiting for
the light to turn. I start to laugh, which probably only cemented the verdict of "insane" among the
drivers in my immediate area.
I came down the hill a little slower than usual, maybe at 30 mph. The tiny icicles that were
pricking me before were now stabbing my face. ow! ow! ow! I was double gloved, but my fingers were
completely wet and frozen. For a few minutes I tucked them into the palm of my glove so they'd thaw
a bit, and hoped I didn't have to brake at any point.
By the time I was in the last mile before home, the storm started to slack. It was now turning back
to light rain.
When I got home, and peeled off my tights, my legs were bright red. Some sort of road grease had
penetrated my tights in spots, so I had these half-inch black blotches all over my shins and to some
extent, my thighs. It looked like I had some sort of weird skin disease.
Of course, the shower was like a religious experience. A vault of hot steam and water completely
renewing the body. Ah.
Warm Regards,
Claire Petersky [email protected] Home of the meditative cyclist at:
http://home.earthlink.net/~cpetersky/Welcome.htm
