More Blood in Them

It’s colder.  No question.  But I ain’t throwing in the towel yet. I can see my breath.  The first traffic light I arrive at has a large frozen puddle beside it.  A recent addition to this intersection, they must have inadvertently stuck a water pipe when they were laying the electric wiring.  I don’t pedal when I get there and I sure don’t break.  Always best to just glide right over the ice and that’s what I do. 

My trunk is warm.  I have a big down coat on over a large zipped up hoodie which is pulled over my neck and keeps everything within temperate.  My hands have makeshift mittens in the form of thick red socks. Without hand covering this ride would be impossible but as is, I don’t mind.  It’s my thighs, really that are cold.  These blue jeans just don’t cut it all by themselves.  But with each pump of the pedal, the blood circulates a little more soundly.  Thighs are sturdier than fingers.  There’s a lot more blood in them.

I wonder if anyone can see me.  I’ve a black bike and an orange parka.  The other morning I was biking along the correct direction on the side way that is cordoned off for bikes and walkers.  Off in the distance a light was approaching.  It was someone on a motorized scooter, coming closer and closer.  I kept to the side and afforded the person plenty of room but it was clear that only when we were within twenty feet of each other did she finally notice me and pulled to the side with a start. 

My reflector is a bit sad.  It's loose on the ring and its swung down so the shiny bits face the pavement and as such offers no use whatsoever as a form of reflection.  I suppose there is one on the back but I really haven’t looked.  The kids will ask me what I want for Christmas.  Perhaps a flashing light or two is not a bad idea.    

Monday, 12/03/18