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06-05-04, 04:52 AM
There's a line that runs through this city that is seven and a half miles long and 23 millimeters wide.
It's a line that I ride every day of the year, no matter what the weather is. I know every inch of it like I know my face. Every pothole, every bump. This line knows the smoothest, fastest path to take. It knows how to magically make every light turn green right when I hit the sidewalk.
Somehow this line expands my consiousness to a four block radius. It knows where to look in the mirror windows of the office building ahead of me to see around blind corners. It knows which street signs to look at for reflections of headlights. It sees every pedestrian. It tells me how far behind me the next car is, and if I should let it pass or take the lane.
Tonight, that line changed. It's path remains the same, but it's different now. I don't know how or why, but it didn't see anywhere to slow down. There were no cars to let by. There were no lights that were excuses for a brief cooldown so it would change magically for me. It was beautifull, it was faster than I'd ever rode.
Maybe it was learning how to use the upstroke with my knew pedals - maybe it was the driver in the bus lane that I was using on part of the line that I caught three times, yelled at three times, then got bored with and left in my dust. I don't know.
Eight hours later, my legs were tired from all the walking they did at work. I got on my bike to take the second half of the line home. It was 5am, and almost all of the city was asleep. Wide empty streets, with the line moving into the places it usually can't go. Places where cars become enimas. The line loved it, and kept taunting my aching legs.
I tried to take it slow, at the speed I do in winter, when the ice and snow and winds try to push me and my bike from the line. I think it laughed when the lights I didn't want to catch stayed green. It laughed when two consecutive red lights had only cop cars at them, both turning far away and in the direction away from me. Every time I tried to slow down, I only saw signs to go faster.
I hear there are some people that have many lines through their cities. I don't. I can get anywhere I need to go, but I end up doing it cautiously, not knowing what to expect. I envy them.
But I know this line better than anyone.
It's a line that I ride every day of the year, no matter what the weather is. I know every inch of it like I know my face. Every pothole, every bump. This line knows the smoothest, fastest path to take. It knows how to magically make every light turn green right when I hit the sidewalk.
Somehow this line expands my consiousness to a four block radius. It knows where to look in the mirror windows of the office building ahead of me to see around blind corners. It knows which street signs to look at for reflections of headlights. It sees every pedestrian. It tells me how far behind me the next car is, and if I should let it pass or take the lane.
Tonight, that line changed. It's path remains the same, but it's different now. I don't know how or why, but it didn't see anywhere to slow down. There were no cars to let by. There were no lights that were excuses for a brief cooldown so it would change magically for me. It was beautifull, it was faster than I'd ever rode.
Maybe it was learning how to use the upstroke with my knew pedals - maybe it was the driver in the bus lane that I was using on part of the line that I caught three times, yelled at three times, then got bored with and left in my dust. I don't know.
Eight hours later, my legs were tired from all the walking they did at work. I got on my bike to take the second half of the line home. It was 5am, and almost all of the city was asleep. Wide empty streets, with the line moving into the places it usually can't go. Places where cars become enimas. The line loved it, and kept taunting my aching legs.
I tried to take it slow, at the speed I do in winter, when the ice and snow and winds try to push me and my bike from the line. I think it laughed when the lights I didn't want to catch stayed green. It laughed when two consecutive red lights had only cop cars at them, both turning far away and in the direction away from me. Every time I tried to slow down, I only saw signs to go faster.
I hear there are some people that have many lines through their cities. I don't. I can get anywhere I need to go, but I end up doing it cautiously, not knowing what to expect. I envy them.
But I know this line better than anyone.