Tough Commute

Today's commute was a bit tougher than usual. For one thing, my legs are pretty dead. Sunday's VO2Fest pretty much killed them, then a little bit of cross riding laying out the course, and a lap of Rosaryville buried the bastards. So riding in was a bit slow, the legs never opened.

Around 1:00, I knocked off to go to the office picnic. Unlike a lot of fundatory events, this one was actually fun, mainly because I really, really like a lot of the people I work with. Naturally, I rode to it from the office. Afterward, I rode back into D.C. and waited for Sean to finish up work, killing an hour by rolling around Hains a few times.

Then we headed back home; at that point I had about 40 miles on my dead legs.

Sure enough, there was no zip. But wait, it gets worse.

Coming down a hill on GoodLuck Road - the most inaptly named stretch of tarmac in all of Prince George's County, Maryland - a woman in the oncoming lane looked right at us, then pulled in front of us, turning left. I can't speak for what Sean did but I locked 'em up and feathered the brakes just a bit so as not to slide into her door. We were going probably 25-28 at the time, and we bumped each other pretty good, but didn't crash. "What the f***??!!! BITCH!" was all I could manage to say, albeit at the top of my lungs, and Sean didn't manage to say anything for a couple minutes. So there was some adrenalin going on.

About a half mile later, we're rolling along and Sean has a little gap on me. This woman in a Green BMW 5 series - Ghetto Fabulous, coming out of some really cheap little houses, nice wheels, tons of dings in the car - is talking on the phone. Sean rolls past, then she starts to ease out on me. Yeah, I'm going 25 here too. Not good. As I pass, I holler, "get off the phone" and she hits the brakes. Once I was past, she peels out up the hill, and as she passes, rolls down the window and goes, "You fat bastard!"

That got me laughing pretty good, because that's what a number of my close friends call me. I thought it was just a little presumptuous of her to use such a friendly familiar name for me.

But anyhow, that was #2 close call on the day.

Then a little later we're coming into Old Town Bowie. There's this bridge, and at the bottom the left turn has right-of-way. Oncoming traffic on the left has to stop. So this next woman sees me and Sean coming, and pulls halfway into the intersection right as I get there. This time I lock them up, and holler, "go on! Just go!"

Oddly enough, my legs opened up right about here as I pounded the pedals and shot up the hill.

Three close calls in about 15-20 minutes, all by ridiculous, stupid acting drivers who looked right through us. I could pretty easily be dead right now.

Oh yeah, and my legs, they're toast. I need to get a lot of rest between right now, and Granogue. That, and to not get run over. That may be the tougher part of the deal.

Artist's Impression:
Jim Drafting on Sean Today