The Good, The Bad, And The Road Rash

Ah, night riding…

Unlike other cities I’ve lived in, where condo developers compete as to who can get their balconies the closest to overhanging bodies of water, my current home of Saskatoon has set aside the riverbanks as park land. This leads to two swaths of green, one on each bank, paved only with narrow walking and biking paths bisecting wide rolling lawns and villages of trees.

So there I was, whipping along a bike path, happy as a clam. Unlike the other night I didn’t have drivers mistaking my seat and saddlebag reflectors for insect parts that they could gain extra points for by mashing into their grilles. Tonight it was just me and my slowly-but-surely growing leg muscles as I continued undoing the self-atrophication that took place earlier in the summer.

The wind in my hair almost drowned out my MP3 player as I pedaled furiously over rising crests and rode the descent. The web client who changed her mind about paying for her site when she got her invoice, the coming winter, the ex-girlfriend announcing her new crush… none of that mattered. Just my legs pumping, my heart pumping, the bike cruising along…

Well, that’s not entirely true. The three guys riding abreast of each other coming down the hill on the other side of the hairpin turn mattered too.

If I were of a different persuasion, or even remotely bi-curious, I’m sure there are scenarios in which being rapidly introduced to three strapping young lads at dusk could be a good thing.

In this case, however, velocity conspired with physics and heterosexuality to create a socially awkward and physically painful encounter.

We rushed together and almost through each other like opposing armies in an Asian land war, with lesser-scale but respectably violent results.

Fortunately no bikes were harmed in the making of the ensuing pile.

I picked myself up, we muttered sincere but low toned apologies while avoiding eye contact, and were off – me on my way, they on theirs. This was one of those rare occasions where I could actually congratulate myself for having splashed out the cash on a Belstaff jacket when I was more affluent. Ballistic nylon holds up far better when skidding across pavement than… oh let’s just say exposed skin.

Just because as a Canadian I get free health care doesn’t mean I want the owies that go with it. I counted my teeth as I rode away, happy in the knowledge that I narrowly avoided the Goalie Smile.

Save for a steep hill on my regular route that so far still makes me breathe like Justin Bieber the first time Kim Kardashian modeled something low-cut for him, the rest of my trip was uneventful. Tranquil cruising resumed, and the physical bruises should heal almost as fast as the pride.

Long story short, I really need to buy an LED headlamp for my bike.