Uncoordinated. Disoriented. Unbalanced. Anxiety-ridden. Injured.
These are just some of the adjectives that can be used in concert with the thought of Ashley on a bike.
Saturday was a day of miserable chores and errands and accomplishing things…everything that a Saturday shouldn’t be. So to get work-happy Boyfriend to let us stop raking, I knew I had to find something ultra-fun and wacky. I suggested a bike ride. It might not seem wacky to the average human, but to those who know me, suggesting physical activity is seriously out-of-the-box for me.
I donned my newly-purchased helmet (which I have contemplated just wearing all the time) and hopped on my sister’s bike (which I stole) and we were off. Well…Boyfriend was off…it took me awhile to get going. We took the back roads as long as possible…but the moment came where we had to ride along the busy street for like a block and a half. Illegal or not…I rode on the sidewalk…because I don’t have a death wish and prefer to live thank you very much.
TEN MOTHER-EFFING MILES LATER…we returned to this busy section of road on the way home. I cautiously led the way along the sidewalk, trying desperately not to fall as I bumped over the canyons that city officials would call sidewalk cracks. I looked ahead and noticed that the sidewalk narrowed in front of me as there were a bus stop. I started to “eeeeeee” quietly in a high pitch to myself and tried to focus on going straight. Just then, a beastly bus jumped out of nowhere (well…not nowhere…he was slowly pulling to curb for the last block…but scared the poop out of me nonetheless). I visually measured my handlebars. I visually measured the sidewalk between the bus and the bus stop…and with my constant swervy path, I was not going to fit. I stopped quickly as I sidled up alongside the bus. But when I went to set my left foot down I tipped and stepped off the curb. Simultaneously, I attempted to throw my other leg over the bike to steady myself. But my foot (those of you who know me also happen to know that I have very large feet that are a huge tripping hazard in the most normal situations) got caught on the center bar and I turned toward the bus to catch my falling self.
The resultant position involved me, one leg off the curb, the other folded up under me, with my knee wedged between the bus and the bike, both hands slipping down the side of the bus while my face (and particularly my nose) smushed against the window.
Needless to say…it was neither comfortable nor fun. What it was…embarrassing…as the passengers gawked at me and the driver asked me if I was ok.
Yeah…I suck at bikes. Boyfriend and I are going to stick to places from now on where I can’t run my face into parked buses.
P.S. I realize that my description may be lacking, so I drew a little illustration to clarify. Enjoy.