Lazy Bastard or Reasonable Rider

I already had my earplugs in, helmet on, and ready to thumb the starter when I realized I still had my low work shoes on. Normally I ride with over-the-ankle leather Wolverine boots but I forgot to change before leaving my office. I sat a moment pondering what to do.

Riding home here in rush hour traffic is not the battle that urban commuters face on a daily basis. There is definitely more traffic but it only adds five minutes to the non-rush hour travel time.

I’ll also admit to not wearing the armored pants either. Haven’t been wearing them consistently since the weather warmed up. Even so I can’t say the heat is the reason since temperatures still hover in the low to mid 40’s in the morning. I’ve convinced myself I’m dressing for the ride. A reasonable thought. I might even believe it if it weren’t for the fact that I have been letting the pre-ride tire pressure checks slide to weekly ones. And let’s not talk about oil and fluid level checks. I suppose as my skill in manipulating the scooter have improved so much that there is really no need to put my feet down at stop signs. Perhaps the mental energy I am burning to consider these changes is merely a way to avoid thinking about more important topics. Or not.

On this ride home I feel unexpectedly exposed and vulnerable on the Vespa. I notice a tire-eating opening in the pavement that I hadn’t seen before. Waiting at a traffic light I see two T-short clad, tennis shoe wearing, sportbike riders scream around a Greyhound bus and I marvel at their faith in what might be in front of that bus.

Farther along I try to convince myself that riders competing in the Tour De France travel at speeds comparable to what I’m doing. A look in my rear-view mirror at a couple arguing in the cab of a Ford F250 truck two car lengths behind me highlighted one difference between Lance Armstrong and myself.

I did go back into my office to change shoes. I have consistently been wearing full-helmet, earplugs, armored jacket, gloves, long pants, and boots. But not wearing the armored pants has bugged me for some reason. Commuting in jeans and running errands without the Tourmaster Overpants feels nice. I’ve gotten down on my knees often enough in the driveway to do something and felt the electric pain when a sharp pebble drives itself into my knee to realize that armored pants offer more than skin protection.

On the way home I stopped to look at some trees in bloom at a local cemetery that claims to be the birthplace of Memorial Day.

There is a large bronze statue there of three women laying flowers at the grave of a soldier fallen during the Civil War. I arrived home safe but without resolution of my personal concerns.

This morning I road to work fully geared because it was raining. The ride home was even worse in a torrential downpour. I don’t know what the heck is up with my gear but by the time I got home I was drenched from the waist down. Time to look at some changes. Wet at 75 degrees on a short ride isn’t bad though. Just made me feel like I accomplished something!