As a good Madisonian who would rather not drive if she can help it, I took the bike to work this morning. Yeah, yeah, drizzle on the horizon. Drizzle will come and go. And I miss the lakeshore path. Something to do with the ducks, I suppose (or, are they not ducks?).
Purchase photo 2083
In the course of the day, the drizzle gets worse. By evening, it rains.
It’s a long way home in the rain. I’m despondent. It’s easy to let the stork fly south when the winds are favorable (another Polish proverb that I just made up).
My students say – put that bike on the bus bike rack and leave the driving to others. I watch a film clip on how it’s done (thank you, students). I set out.
I wait at the bus stop, wet and tired, along with others who are wet and tired.
Purchase photo 2082
The maneuver is successful: bus comes, I pull down its bus rack, place the bike on it and clip it in place.
I am so pleased with my accomplishment. And like so many who feel the tickle of success, I let it go to my head. I get off at the Whole Foods store. I need some greens for supper. And bread. And a bottle of rosé to help me through tonight’s debate. I stuff my purchases into my backpack. Oh dear, it’s really raining. I whip out my umbrella and climb on the bike. Clumsily. At least I have the sense to stay on the sidewalk.
At the intersection I pause. And then, suddenly, it’s not so easy to get back on the bike. I don’t know why. I’m tired. My coat is in the way. My umbrella is crazily obstructing my view. I wobble and I fall. Onto the green strip by the sidewalk. Pure mud.
Sigh… I make it home alright. Wet and muddy and bruised, knowing that it’s all my fault. Because I let the cows graze with vodka on my mind. Or something.
