I am so sick of crashing on my bike. I am also really sick of being caught in the middle of fervent downpours on my bicycle commute home from work. Twice this week. Both times, I leave work and all is clear. Then suddenly, on the lakeshore path and only minutes away from the office, the downpour begins and I am immediately dripping and pissed, having just begun my journey home. By the time I actually do make it home, I am a sopping, muddy mess. Yuck.
I suppose this is what I get for commuting to work on a bike nearly 260 days per year. Which is no easy feat when you never know what you’re going to get in the morning, and you do always have to pull together that whole professional facade in the office. Days like this week’s force me to consider why I don’t just suck it up and pay for a prohibitively expensive university staff parking pass. I consider, but still, I pass. Although I was hit by a car last summer, fell on train tracks only a few weeks ago, and crashed into a curb last night, I think I will continue to bike to work. Most of the days it’s lovely, and I can think of a million things I would rather have than a parking spot.
Yesterday afternoon, it was really just a stupid mistake. Totally distracted—which is oftentimes the culprit of my crashes. It was pouring hard and I was only a few minutes from home. Too busy glaring at a motorist who failed to yield to me despite the fact that I was getting soaked and he was dry and safe inside his car, I took a corner too wide and crashed into a curb. Down. Owww. Asshole. Thus, I have reopened my wounds from the last crash that were almost completely healed. I would greatly appreciate if I could get home safe and dry this afternoon. Thank you.