I guess drivers cutting off or hitting cyclists is page 12 (inside matter) news if at all, so I’ll just give up the level of surprise that I have when it comes to what happens to me. Suffice to say a truck with a backhoe nearly ran me off the road today. He honked came around then simply slammed the door shut nearly edging me off the raod on Bellona Avenue. In previous blogs I’ve discouraged myself from reacting and using fingers and the like but I have to admit that I did then. The bastard.
It filled me with such adrenaline, I barely felt myself go up the hill there. That was beautiful. The source of the energizing way I went up the hill was clearly not wanted but I realized that the dim spirit of fall riding can be augmented by the anger of bad intentions—which I had had I been able to catch that bastard. I’m not sure whether to be happy or sad that I couldn’t catch that guy.
Today’s ride was an odd thing—the wind was so strong to the north and west that I lost nearly three minutes off my best time at the halfway point, only to finish with a 45:30 which is two and a half minutes off my best which is about a 43:06. The adrenaline and the push I had after really brought things back. Not to mention going with the wind. I used the old circuit because I feel so attached to it. I’ll have to stop using that route for my bike rim’s sake.