Nite Ridin'

The reality of the world has forced me to the point where I must become the nite rider. I wish I was as cool as the man himself, but unlike the Cincinnati Kid, I lack the boyish charms and bushy hair of David Hasselhoff. I am jealous; but Zurie my winter bike (not the new hotness that most of you have seen me on lately) comes equipped with red lights so she is not jealous of K.I.T.T (Knight Industries Two Thousand).

This morning was an eerie sight. All of my weekly rides start before the sun rises. I have taken to carrying more lights than most 18 wheelers but even then it is pitch black on these rural roads. This morning, it was overcast so even the stars and the moon weren't there to help me out. I had chosen one of the more back wood routes. This made everything really really dark. My helmet mounted headlights were on full-blast.

For those of you who have yet done a night ride I strongly recommend it, but only with the proper equipment. It changes your whole perspective on riding and on what you focus on. The entire road becomes a mystery, even ones that you have traveled over a million times before. The smallest false flat (faux plat to use the French) becomes a big surprise. If you thought once before that you could feel the road under you, you haven't really experienced it until this.

I crossed one of the million bridges that I normally cross this morning. It's a pretty bad one and normally requires paying attention to avoid falling through the watermelon sized pot holes. With the added pressure of the dark this morning it became a real test. I actually found myself with a huge branch halfway up my crank-arm and one more strong pedal stroke would have done me in. But the nuance of nite riding saved me. My spiderman-like-senses that have begun to develop felt what was coming and I was able to avoid it. It is as if I have become one with nature here again.

On the way back into my apartment complex I passed a Sonic. Each stall was taken by a car, pick-up or SUV. There was a funny smell in the air too, which probably elicited this thought. I realize now that Sonic drive-ins are the human version of a trough. The cattle pull in, get their fat served to them and then back out.