I got a book at the library thinking I hadn't read it before, but it turns out I had. I'm reading it anyway. I figure it can't hurt. I liked reading it enough the first time that I still think about the opening paragraphs with what is approaching frightening regularity. This is not from those paragraphs:
"He stepped out onto the street, where a passing eagle swooped out of the sky at him, nearly forcing him into the path of a cyclist, who cursed and swore at him from a moral high ground that cyclists alone seem able to inhabit." -Douglas Adams, 'The Long Dark Tea Time of the Soul'
I busted out laughing when I read this in the waiting room at my doctor's office. It's true, to some degree, for most of the cyclists I know. There's something about moving on wheels much faster than a person using only their feet to propel them, but also allowing ourselves the flexibility of obeying certain, although not all traffic laws. Sure, I won't run a red light...if I'm likely to cause a problem or get hit by a much faster, far heavier and less forgiving hunk of metal and molded plastic. If not, I blow right through it. Same with stop signs. I ride in the street, but not in the gutter, but that's not breaking any laws, much as some people seem to be trying to tell me by attempting to clip me with their side view mirrors. It could be a simple, 'Hi,' but I have my doubts.
Also making my ride home today interesting were swarms upon throngs of gnats. At first I thought it was sand, or something falling from the trees making a 'tink' sound off my bike and bouncing off my arms and face. Nope, it was an amazingly large quantity of gnats hanging out along about a mile and a half of Selby Avenue in St. Paul. I had to breathe through my nose and keep my face down to avoid getting them in my eyes. I finally turned off to try Marshall and that was much better, though not entirely gnat-free. I've been home over an hour now and I swear I keep feeling them crawling across my skin. Ack.