Actually, I'm not that impressed by sliced bread

So many, many changes this week. First, I should say how very much I love Craigslist....I love it very much. I sold my car on Craigslist after a measly two days. And in the same afternoon, bought a new mattress and unloaded my old one- which is completely beside the point.

Later that same day: Bought a used bike.

My new ride is an all-terrain Pacific Legend. A generic, 120$ bike I would have bought new at a Wall Mart or Target. I bought it for 29$ at Goodwill. I bought a bunch of fancy, expensive Schwinn accessories that night, most of which I took back today because they were useless and poorly made.

I have a compulsive need to name cars, this has carried to my bike....names, names. My first car, a Mitsubishi 3000GT, was named Sheila. I loved that car, more than Craigslist. Six cylinders roaring to life inside a sleek black body. I could hit the gas at a stoplight and soar in front of the starting line. And there lies one of my larger challenges in putting down the car and picking up the bike: I actually love cars. But more on that later. Second car was Lii (short for Lima Bean) and that was the Celica I just sold.

OK, Daphne? Elvira? Tyche (tee-chee)! I think that's the one.

Day 4: Maybe This Won't Kill Me After All

I had a couple of rare days off to sit around my apartment and contemplate my navel. It was spectacular. The days off, not my navel.

I thought the time off would have made it harder get back on the bike today, but the opposite was true. The time to let my muscles rest helped, and the ride to work this morning was [ shockingly] pleasant.

The more I ride though, the more questions I think of. Do I really, really have to obey traffic laws like stopping at four way stops? How do I signal that I want to turn? What kind of cheese tastes best on a Wheat Thin?
Probably best to look these up.

Fresh from the League of American Bicyclists, (http://www.bikeleague.org/index.php) the rules of the road:

Stay in the right lane, not the sidwalk, and stay in the right third of thant lane, to avoid being squeezed into a narrow lane by passing traffic.

Move into the center of the lane before intersections and turns to assert your position to other drivers.

Left arm out and down with palm to the rear to indicate stopping.

Left or right arm straight out to indicate left or right turn

And sharp cheddar or blue cheese are both very good on Wheat thins.

In other news, whilst riding down the road, a squirrel carrying an acorn ran out in front of me today. He waited until I was 12 or so inches from him before darting back the way he came. I felt like a car for a whole minute because of this. His actions lead me to the conclusion that, in their habitat of origin, squirrels were elephant hunters. This is the only reason I can think for three pound squirrel to wait in front of a three thousand pound moving object (a car, not me on my bike) and dart away only when it comes close enough to clearly discern.

Day One: This is Gonna Kill Me

With baby duffel secured into its seat and my tires filled with fresh air, I set out this morning on the first of many treks to work. There is a nice little trail lined with trees and corn fields by my apartment complex that I ride for leisure a few times a week The trails length is seven miles all together. The measly three or four miles to work, I assumed, would be cake. Not so.

First, it is eight hundred and seventy-five thousand degrees outside and although I don't normally sweat much, my body made a special exception today. Second, I was nearly hyperventilating at the idea of having to ride roughly 500 yards on a main road where the average speed is 50.

Accepting these setbacks, I rolled on, plodding down the path and pushing my aching muscles as far as they would go. Deep breaths, beads of sweat gathering. Finally I found myself at the exit of the apartment complex...it was a long ride from there. Every hill felt like a struggle against the very forces of the earth. I tried pep-talking myself up hills, thinking encouraging things like "There you go, you can do it. You're light as a feather. The wind will carry you on its wings." Inevitably these thoughts turned about half way up the hill into "You are a ten-ton pile of bricks on a sled and this hill is made of butter."

I was smart enough to give myself an hour before I had to report for duty: half an hour to get there and half an hour to die in the break room before punching in. The ride home was, if at all possible, worse.

I know this only the first day. I know this won't actually kill me. I only wish my body knew it too.

If you're wondering where I work, it's a department store. That's all I can say. Really. If I wrote what I thought of it, I would get fired.

...Allow me to explain

In northern Indiana, I'm as Midwest as Midwest gets. I, like many people the country over, find myself giving up driving for many reasons, not the least of which is financial. But I'm gong to make the best of it and bike and bus my way around. And until the weather turns unbearable (December?) it will be all bike.

Here, I will chronicle my struggles against the elements of destruction, the largest of which are the weather and my muscles. Through my journey I hope to enlighten the minds and light the paths of burgeoning cyclists like myself...or at least get a good laugh at my own expense.

For now I am riding the 20$ thrift shop bike my sister loaned me which is a Huffy mountain bike and not really tailored for everyday street use. I should come out with it now that I know nothing about cycling. In college I had some cyclist friends, but all I remember about them was that they were hippies and they occasionally let passing cyclist nomads (hobos?) stay at their house. Since my apartment is small and I don't like fleas, I won't be doing that.

On the back of the bike sits a baby carrier, which is lovely for hauling my bags and a change of clothes for work. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure drivers think I am a terrible mother for dragging my duffel-bag baby around in sweltering summer heat.

I'm selling my car as soon as possible and spending a few bucks on a nicer street bike. I don't know much about what's good in a bike. I do know I want a seat with excessive amounts of gel and cushion. There's no such thing as too much gel. I want to feel like I'm sitting on a giant pile of squished bananas.

Tomorrow I start. Tomorrow I roll the path. Tomorrow. Tonight I sleep.