"I'm on the outside looking in" - Robert Plant

I forgot how much I love joy riding on my bike. Somewhere along Growing Up Rd., I lost my interest. I am so happy Joel helped me find it again on Sunday. It was dark, I was nervous, but there it was, between the wind in my hair, that lovely bell chime, and the satisfaction of going around town a lot faster than walking. I like that you can just pick up your bike whenever and start pedaling. You don't have to hassle a locked car door, the gas gauge, looking out for pedestrians in fear of killing them, headlights, air conditioning, the scratchy radio, the musky smell of smokers from 10 years ago leaking from every inch of the interior leather upholstery...it's just you, the wind, and the rhythm of pedaling. Simple. Efficient. Healthy.

Fast forward to today. What began as a nice bike ride around town soon turned into a Critical Mass convention. I have a fatty bruise and dried blood on my right leg to prove it. I ran into a fence. A boy fell into me. And not in that order at all. I'm not sure if I fully appreciate/agree with the politics but it was really...fun. We stopped rush hour traffic. There were some cars who had to sit through 2 red lights as they watched us bike past them. Others were cut off unintentionally as all 106 of us had to turn left onto Center Street. Some cars honked in appreciation while most other honkers did not.
I kept thinking about how I would have reacted if it were me sitting at those red lights. What if I had decided to go grocery shopping instead, and was that person watching us cruise by laughing, singing, talking, pedaling, all without a care for those people waiting on us? Would I have cursed biking forever? Probably. Because dang it, I was being forced to wait at a light, in my hot car with no air conditioning, smelling that awful "used" stinch, listening to my favorite song cut in and out on my radio, daydreaming of lifting my foot off the break just until I "accidentally" hit one or a few of the bikers, while my chocolate icecream melted in my trunk. I wonder how many cartons of icecream and dreams of changing the world melted because of our political statement.