commuterchroniclesdbh

Driving and Biking in the Big City

Accidental Three Stooges Adventure

with one comment

Folks will be surprised to learn that no matter how many times I bike these same suburban trails, I can still get lost. It happened today. The good news about getting lost is that I’m forced to bike longer because I have to find myself again. The bad news is I can end up in an accidental Three Stooges episode. My bike gets stuck in a rut, a limb almost bonks me on the head, I’m dive bombed by angry wasps or some junior high boys call me a penis-head. And typically I don’t even notice until I’m too gone to do anything about it.

This happens because I get caught up in my own head or a book download and because a lot of my trail will look the same no matter where I’m heading. When I listened to The Ruins, a surprisingly enthralling book by Scott Smith, I felt the trees close in on me and the nature noises mock me until I headed for the street and the comfort of company. My best exercise comes in the last hour or so of a book download, so that I can get close to the end of a story and jump on Streak. That way I won’t even care how far I ride.

I was reminded tonight of such a time on a night not unlike tonight. I was lost but my inner compass was heading us home. I was tired, sweaty and enthralled. I didn’t even realize I was about to get slapped by Moe until I came to the yellow tape across my path. A section had been re-paved and not yet ready for traffic. And yes, the thought of writing my name in the wet concrete crossed my mind but then I remembered I was a law-abiding citizen, gainfully employed with a Boy Scout husband and 2.0 adult children who needed a role model instead of a mom who likes to sass back when she’s called, “penis-head.”

I jumped off Streak and started pushing in the grass beside the greenbelt. It takes a bit longer for me to notice the police officer up ahead, shining his flashlight on two young men on my side of the wet concrete. Did I mention it was getting dark? Well, it was, but I wasn’t yet concerned because I had my very excellent headlight, purchased by Big Johnny Santa for me. It is a real cool techy deal that will recharge on my computer or most any such techy  device with a USB cord.

In any case, I finally start to pay attention. The young men are dressed in black pants and ties but I’m not stereotyping here because the cop clearly thinks they are trouble and not just spreading the Good Word. The officer is accusing them of fire-setting, dope-smoking and name-calling (penis-head?) when I realize my forward motion is about to bring me in the middle of things. The cop has been reluctant to cross the wet cement until I get there and the two boys start using me and Streak to keep the cop at bay. You’ve seen it with the Stooges and a table. Run round and round, fake to the left, go right. I’m the table. Whoa, Nellie.

Streak and I narrowly escape with our lives, lesson still unlearned. Because, once more, I get lost tonight in my neighborhood of 15 years on a bike I’ve ridden for 3,000 miles down the same path and the same road almost every day for three years.

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Written by commuterchroniclesdbh

May 31, 2012 at 6:35 pm

One Response

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  1. Love this one too! You continue to amaze me!

    Pam Guidry

    June 4, 2012 at 4:29 pm


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