Had a great ride the other night and just had to wax lyrical...
Its a cold and damp December night. Moisture hangs in the air. People close their doors to it and turn up the heating. They get in their cabs or call their partners to come pick them up. They pull the curtains and snuggle in front of the telly. But not me. I don my bright yellow light weight vest with the Velcro'd cuffs. I roll the bike out and check tyres , pump and kit. I set the lights flashing, hurrying as the cold starts to creep in. I feel underdressd as the fresh air seeps through the thin layers of clothing, the cold nipping at my heels as I stride my trusty road bike and hurry out into the night, wondering just a bit whether I might be a bit mad.
Within a mile I own the night. The heat and power of flexing muscles banishes cold. My legs pump and the damp reflective asphalt streams silently beneath my wheels. Occasional halo'd street lamps salute me as i slip through the misty blackness.
My flashing bike lights bounce of the close walls as i thread a maze of deserted suburban walkways. Then, in contrast, the light dissipates out into the open sky'ed nothingness of a park. Ever changing, the scenery rolls by.
The bike runs strong, humming, taught and balanced, powering through the miles, up hills and under bridges. Dark shadows give way to the glare of the city street. A fox is startled by my near silent approach. Then I'm swerving through a knot of traffic and hit a crossroads of pubs, restaurants and traffic lights. Unpredictable revellers are spilling out onto the street, huddled under their umbrellas as they scurry from door to car. The lights change and i am momentarily stationary. I watch them as they hug each other Bye and get into their boxes. I feel free'er than them. I'm not judging them but tonight I have wings. I feel stronger and more a part of the natural world, even in my lycra. My breath steams out of my nostrils roiling into the cone of my front light. I feel the heat my muscles have generated, disippating slightly as i wait for the green light. Then I am off again, clipped in and pumping up to cruising speed. I won't stop, not for them, not for anything. I leave the jam of lights, cars and people behind and slip back into the quiet of the night.
Its a cold and damp December night. Moisture hangs in the air. People close their doors to it and turn up the heating. They get in their cabs or call their partners to come pick them up. They pull the curtains and snuggle in front of the telly. But not me. I don my bright yellow light weight vest with the Velcro'd cuffs. I roll the bike out and check tyres , pump and kit. I set the lights flashing, hurrying as the cold starts to creep in. I feel underdressd as the fresh air seeps through the thin layers of clothing, the cold nipping at my heels as I stride my trusty road bike and hurry out into the night, wondering just a bit whether I might be a bit mad.
Within a mile I own the night. The heat and power of flexing muscles banishes cold. My legs pump and the damp reflective asphalt streams silently beneath my wheels. Occasional halo'd street lamps salute me as i slip through the misty blackness.
My flashing bike lights bounce of the close walls as i thread a maze of deserted suburban walkways. Then, in contrast, the light dissipates out into the open sky'ed nothingness of a park. Ever changing, the scenery rolls by.
The bike runs strong, humming, taught and balanced, powering through the miles, up hills and under bridges. Dark shadows give way to the glare of the city street. A fox is startled by my near silent approach. Then I'm swerving through a knot of traffic and hit a crossroads of pubs, restaurants and traffic lights. Unpredictable revellers are spilling out onto the street, huddled under their umbrellas as they scurry from door to car. The lights change and i am momentarily stationary. I watch them as they hug each other Bye and get into their boxes. I feel free'er than them. I'm not judging them but tonight I have wings. I feel stronger and more a part of the natural world, even in my lycra. My breath steams out of my nostrils roiling into the cone of my front light. I feel the heat my muscles have generated, disippating slightly as i wait for the green light. Then I am off again, clipped in and pumping up to cruising speed. I won't stop, not for them, not for anything. I leave the jam of lights, cars and people behind and slip back into the quiet of the night.
. My commutes start in darkness (even at this time of year), and the Winter commutes can be quite special.
