Pedaled Love

My drive home the last few days has driven home something I have long been harboring - I love bicyclist. There’s no sarcasm there. I love all of them.

The Twin Cities has an amazing biking community. Crawling along Summit Avenue around rush hour, I couldn’t even count the number of bike commuters that passed me in speed. Most of them carrying the ‘work clothes’ bag. Some just sweating up their formal wear. Somehow their good deed makes me feel better about myself. You would think I would feel guilty, sitting high in my giant car all alone, but somehow I pretend they are biking for me as much as they are biking for them. So I will let them do just that. Their non-driving counters my driving. World balance, no?

The truth of the matter is I often wish I never got this stupid car. I accumulated my sweet, kid-toting ride after graduating college. Up until that point, all I did was bike. I hated the bus. So I biked. I biked in the rain and the snow. I will take a wet ass over a crazy man any day. I biked after 16 hours of crazy labor filled days at work. My favorite was biking to get my groceries. I’d fill my backpack and carabinered two more large bags to it. I should have had a wide load sticker. I still hit the pedals for leisure frequently, but I gotta say, I miss the commute. Or maybe I miss that biking used to be my best option for travel. Now, I’m pretty sure I need the extra 20 minutes of sleep.

So many drivers get pissed at bicyclists. I love every shade of bikers.

I love the zippy’s in their spandex. Particularly when I am somehow keeping even stride with them on my bike.

I love the 13 year old boys on BMXs that cut in front of me wearing jersey’s and hats with their brims pointing in my direction, only to give me a fully proper hand signal to indicate their turning left. Awesome. I fell in love with those two little glorious bastards today.

I love every dirty boy on a fixie. I wouldn’t rely on that attraction if it were up close and personal, but in flash motion, they are all hot somehow.

I love the obvious non-biker bikers. The ones who you can always see their underwear band peeking out from the fold in their shorts and athletic socks pulled up to their knees.

This is my homage to the bicyclist filling the streets … I fucking love you guys.