Every ride is an adventure

Some rides are more of an adventure than others. Sometimes, I could do without the excitement.

Yesterday morning, for example. As related in my prior post, I got to watch a school bus pass me unsafely.

Or this morning, as another example. A motorist came up behind me, going at least the speed limit (45, on Westport Road), with nobody in the left lane. Clear weather, pretty morning, little other traffic. I waved my hand (wearing my Glo Glove, as usual), which broke through the fog in the driver's head enough that she saw me and went around me. A quarter-mile down the road, I got the same experience, except that this time, the driver was in an Acura coupe with tinted windows. When I waved, she realized I was there and hit the brakes hard enough that I heard a chirp from her tires.

Why are folks so clueless and blithely ignorant of other traffic?

On the other hand, some of the adventures turn out to be pretty funny. Wednesday evening, on my way home from work, about 7:15, I had stopped at the light on Westport Road, heading toward town and home. I was at the front of the line for the light. A van came up beside me suddenly, and the driver said something along the lines of "do you have a license to operate that bicycle?" The light was bad, so while I could see his face, the question and the motion of the van on my right side like that put me immediately into a thinking mode of "am I going to have to tell some twit what the laws are, or defend myself in some way?" and I didn't recognize him immediately. His daughters were in the back seat of the car, and ran their window down to talk a bit. I quickly figured out that the driver knew who I was, and that I knew him, but I was busy getting back out of defensive mode so didn't realize who it was right away. Then he told his daughters that "this man used to ride across Grampa's bridge every day," and it clicked--it was George Cronen, son of Chips Cronen, who had been killed on the Second Street Bridge in July of 2007. George and I have talked several times, in person and via forums here and there, and I felt bad for not realizing just who it was at first.

George reported to me that he'd seen me as he was going the opposite way out by the Jefferson Freeway, and had to turn around and say, "hello." My headlight was easy for him to spot, and seeing my other lights convinced him of who it was (the Ryan does sort of sit out in a crowd...). We had a laugh, and the light changed so it was time to get on with my trip home.