|My B.U.V. (Bike Utility Vehicle)|
It's fun. That's it. Remember what it's like to barrel down a hill on a bike, full blast? How it feels to finally beat that hill? Or for some of you, that ethereal ride home in the dark, where strange sounds and sights greet you around every bend on a moonlit and lonely road?
It's always an adventure.
Some ride year round, but they're mostly aliens who work in local hospitals for some reason, getting things ready for the inevitable invasion. Ignore them and their bug suits.
Me, I can ride when the temp hits 70 degrees. Any lower than that and my hands and feet fall off. The aliens then pick them up and ride off with them.
Contrary to what you might have heard, the hardest part of bicycling is NOT the burning lungs, screaming thighs, cramped calves or those flat tires. It's not even the occasional spill, which I manage at least once every month.
It's the sore ass.
Believe me, whether you're an ultrarunner or NFL lineman, your ass is the last body part to adapt to the rigors of cycling.
My cycling commute is from Nazareth to Easton and back. Last week, I also cycled to a few meetings. Yesterday's meeting of Bethlehem Township Commissioners was canceled, so I took the long way home from the courthouse. I rode the entire length of the Palmer Bike Path, from Riverview Park to the 25th Street Shopping Center. Along the way, I ran into this gal.
When she spotted me, she took cover. But she really had nowhere to go because she was next to a cliff. I slowly rode past her and waved to her as she stood in the brush, trying unsuccessfully to hide.
She came out and, this time, began looking for an exit that took her closer to the Lehigh River.
As she disappeared into the brush again, I walked up and looked down, and there she was, looking right at me, saying toodleoo in deer talk.
In a car, you'll see a deer carcass from time to time. This was much cooler.
Then some bird shit on me.