in bucket #6, a new schwin bicycle…

so everyday i peddle fast and furious on my vintage bicycle, to campus then back home, back to campus, over to the art building, back home. loops and loops from one place to the other, throughout the day. my ipod earbuds are always snug in my lobes, my multi colored scarves tied in big knots with the tail ends flying behind in a trail of wind and pace. i pedal slightly bowlegged, as to not get my bell bottoms caught in the chain. and i am never without one of my many army surplus shoulder bags. in new orleans there are thousands of people just like me (sans scarves…because its freaking hot down there). but here in lagrange there is no one. i am a lone cruiser, a solitary hipster of speed and style.

its nice to feel unique. we all strive for individuality, and despite how in some locales my choice of cycling is cliche, here in lg i am novel. special. when i meet people for the first time they say, “hey, youre that guy who rides that old bike,” which means people notice. it means people talk. sometimes people wave as i pass. drivers stuck in their cars often smile at the sight of me, and i cant help but think that maybe behind their smiles they are mulling over how free i look and how they, in their suv cages of fume and consumption, arent having nearly as much fun.

except sometimes…like the other day…

i got run over by a middle aged woman in an old silver buick.

ok, so i wasnt run over EXACTLY, but it was pretty close. sideswiped is a better word. yeah, sideswiped. i was cruisin down main street and she was driving right next to me, to my left. apparently, she didnt know i was there and decided to make a right hand turn and thus, the sideswipe. fortunately i turned to the right to try and parallel her, rubbing up against her car, grabbing onto her roof, shutting my eyes in hopes that i wouldnt get impaled by the radio antenna. because a radio antenna through the eyeball would suck. anyway, after the buick and i became untangled and i regained control i lifted my left hand into the air, my middle finger saying everything i couldnt vocalize. i wouldve raised both hands and given her “the double,” but i havent mastered the no-hands trick quite yet. my bicycle is a little too squirely for such shenanigans.

the whole incident shook me up a bit. ya know, its not everyday one gets sideswiped by a buick. so i peddled home and took the afternoon with a book and a few glasses of ginger ale. you could come over for some ginger ale if you want. its good. and i always have some. its a nice post bike ride beverage. or, if you prefer we could have it before a bike ride and we could peddle over to the confederate cemetary and read the headstones. or bike through the projects and play with the kids or find an abandoned building to sneak into it. it all sounds good to me. just keep an eye out for the buicks.