Without the staunch support of my Steel Horse, upon which I rode this and many mornings like it, the trek to work would’ve been hell. Proof in the pudding; I’ve oft twittered my commuting misfortunes on the days I’ve chanced and choose to be imprisoned in my cage (i.e. car, granted, a generally ok incarceration.)
The short and sweet of this tale is that, I save time, money and incur less stress by playing the advanced version of the commuter game. It should really be no wonder that fellow bikers salute one another as it requires drive and courage to get to this level.
Each morning I ride, I must ensure that I depart early enough to value safety over the en-route time – a moronic concept but a truth nonetheless. It’s a treacherous trip as any (freeway) ride “horse back” is, but with the additional dangers inherent with traffic.
That traffic congestion consists of amass of cages, driven by people who consider the risk and/or the effort to ride too great. Naturally, that established logic rarely, if ever, occurs to that stated majority as I glide oh-so effortlessly past them. I speak of exploiting the “center lane”, that space between cars which is essentially uninhibited by cage congestion. Some admire and many curse the freedom riders in California embrace.
First, the good ones: I am particularly grateful to the cagers who utilize their turn signals. That split second is all but effortless when compared to the tremendous value added by the act. There are also those who shift to the other side of their lane, giving me a bit more space. Though whether it’s out of fear or courtesy is on a case by case basis. In any case, while I appreciate the sentiment, for the most part the move is largely unnecessary.
Occasionally, enough of them will see me and perform this act that I can’t help but feel like a nobleman amongst surfs. Like a King or an honorable knight riding high while the little surfs scurrying from out my path. Like oil floating atop water. Like Moses parting the red sea. Yeah, it can be that sweet.
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