The Hitchhiker

 

The other day I was out for a bike ride, getting some cardio in, when I felt something sort of hit my knee. I was in full-pedal mode and a fairly strong wind was in my face. I glanced down and this is what I saw…

 

 

I had picked up a hitchhiker. Because I’m me, I didn’t freak out or anything. (It was just a bug, for cry-eye.) In fact, I started smiling and said something along the lines of, “Hey, little guy! How’s it going?” And I kept pedaling.

 

 

Before the hitchhiker joined me, I was really fighting the ride. I’d been out for an hour already and was just wanting to get home. That strong wind was challenging the hell out of me, no matter which direction I rode. In short, I was done. Only I wasn’t able to be done, as I had about 5 miles to go at that point. Something about the little hitchhiker changed all that. Suddenly I was revitalized. Happy. I don’t know why, but that bug really picked things up. The strong wind didn’t bother me anymore. My tired muscles didn’t nag quite as much. I stopped slouching a bit and rode all the way home with admirable posture and a beaming smile. And to its credit, that bug hung on all the way.

 

 

When I reached the new pad, I brushed the hitchhiker off my leg and left him in a pile of leaves. We’d both made it and the ride was finished.

Once Upon a Time…

 

 

Once upon a time, last week, I had several errands to run. After mentally mapping my route, I realized I could ride my bike while checking items off my list. And so I set out…

 

For some reason, there were quite a few male senior citizens driving trucks into my path. And I was in a flippin’ bike lane, for cry-eye! When I thought about how those old dudes had probably accumulated more driving experience than most of us, I found their errant ways perplexing. I didn’t flip off anyone or anything, though I may have yelled “Fuck stick!” a few times – ahem. (I’m not perfect – duh.) But those big, bad, old wolves didn’t take me out, nor did they slow me down too much, and I continued on my way. After dropping off a gift for a friend, I went to the grocery store and the pharmacy, then I bought flowers and headed to a new-to-me liquor store.

 

When I arrived, I expected the store to be jammed as the parking lot was full of double-parked cars. But I found the store mostly empty, aside from the clerk and one other shopper. When I asked the proprietor why the parking lot was so whack-a-do, he pointed to the weed store next door. And then the other shopper said it was “Free Joint Friday.” Huh. Go figure. I knew Sazeracs awaited, so I wasn’t tempted. (I also don’t have a weed card, so there.) Necessary items in hand, I headed home.

 

With the exception of the old, swerving coots, my ride was uneventful. And fun. And great exercise. And the day was as lovely as could be. And just as I steered onto my street, I swallowed a bug.

 

The end.

Sometimes You’re the Windshield…

 

 

I spotted this squished bug beside my car the other day. Even though it was clearly dead, I still thought it was pretty. I mean, look at all those tiny hairs on its back. Nature, you know?

 

It got me thinking about how sometimes we feel like that bug. And how other times, we feel like a windshield. And then I went on to think about the science of squished bugs and windshields, and how – technically – the bug explodes just before making contact with the windshield. So, with that in mind, should we also sometimes feel like the powerful air?

 

I don’t know where this is going. But I do know that when Mister reads this, he’ll be thinking, “Of course you don’t know, ’cause you’re a girl and this is science…” He’s not a sexist or anything, we just happen to share a twisted sense of humor, y’all.