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Friday, February 18, 2005

The Bicyclists

I live in a bucolic setting on a winding country road that is identified on every map that falls into the hands of the most rabid of recreational sports enthusiasts: The Bicyclist.

I am happy to share any roadway (generously, as some are personal injury lawyers) with one, don't get me wrong. They have every right to peacefully enjoy my street as I do. Peacefully.

Unfortunately, bicyclists seldom ride alone. They ride in groups. This makes sharing the road with them somewhat more difficult and dangerous, but worse, as these pods of spinners travel through my slumbering neighborhood, they engage in conversation. Loud conversation. Legs pumping away, blood coursing through their muscles, ears ringing with the exhilaration of their aerobic rush, they cannot help but converse in a fashion not entirely unlike talking to a date at a rock concert.

When I fretted at a neighborhood barbecue, one of my neighbors dismissed me: "They come and go in a flash, what are you complaining about?" (easy for her, she lives a quarter mile back from the road).

I am complaining about exactly that. If I am to be awakened against my will at 5:00 am on a Saturday morning, I deserve the opportunity to scream the expletive of my choice at the offender. Ask my next-door neighbor. He tried power washing his house at 8:00 am on the morning of a National holiday. With the sheer racket of his gas-powered compressor, I was able to walk right up and screamed in his ear. Very fulfilling experience.

But the darting and elusive bicyclist is gone before I have completely awakened. If I could return to my slumber, things wouldn't be so bad. But when your semi-comatose mind registers only the words "...my sister-in-law's bathing suit..." it races with curiosity. Did his wife catch him wearing his sister-in-law's bathing suit? Was he making fun of his fellow rider's striped attire? Has his wife had some recent success in weight loss? By the time I have exhausted all possibilities, it is 7:15 and anyone in my way is to be pitied.

Between the bicyclists and my neighbor, I think I'll just have to power wash the bottom of my driveway every Saturday morning.
Posted by: Wave Maker / 8:12 PM/ |


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