Kegged, Amongst Other Things

Broadway is always a pain in the ass, but at least I got a laugh out of the obstacles blocking my path yesterday: a beer truck had unloaded three kegs onto the middle of the bike lane in front of Mary’s. I guess this bike brakes for beer, whether she likes it or not.

While Monday and Tuesday of this week were stolen days of summer, yesterday was clear, brilliant and chilly. I guess the rules of winter riding in Portland are coming into effect: your choices are warm and wet, or clear and cold. As long as I have my trigger mittens (perfect for operating bike brakes on frigid mornings), I’ll always take clear and cold, even with the brisk north wind that usually comes with it. Yesterday, it was so clear that I could see the peak of Mt. Hood from Mock’s Crest– we hardly ever glimpse the mountains from North Portland.

Although I wrote yesterday’s distressed post about the recent cyclist fatalities just before leaving the house, it only took five minutes of pedaling in that sharp fall air before I felt exhilarated again. The trees line Willamette like blazing torches, and everyone’s out on their bikes on these dry days; we smile at each other, and nod.

Biking is like (or as) a metaphor for life (those of you who know me well are aware that lots of things are metaphors for life): there’s always a certain amount of danger involved in doing the right thing, but the reward is a more meaningful existence. I have never felt as alive on the most epic road trip as I feel on my daily commute by bike. That’s well worth the risk, and worth fighting for today at City Hall.