Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Adventures on a bike...


Before I could drive I attributed my inability to know directions to the fact that I was just merely a bit scatter brained and never paid enough attention. Now that I can drive, I can’t make that excuse anymore. Simply put, I am shit with directions. I don’t know north from south and sometimes I can’t remember whether the sun sets in the east or in the west (sadly I am serious).

Usually my complete inability to ever know where I am going doesn’t impact me too much. But the other day I found myself alone on a bike ride. A trip that should have taken a mere 15 minutes to return from a friend’s house took over 2 hours. Somehow I knew how to get myself there, but rather than just merely back tracking, my incompetent mind decided to go down a different street (in the wrong direction). Where should I end up? Skokie. And thus, an hour in the wrong direction took another hour and a half to rectify.

With pride and determination I continued to ride my bike without any clue of whether my direction was semi accurate. On top of this, I was inconveniently wearing shoes with no grip on the bottom and carrying a target bag with a towel rack and shower curtain in it. And then to even make this situation worse, I had not really ridden a bike since maybe the 4th grade. So, there you have it, me directionally clueless and athletically challenged lost on a bike on Howard St.

Everything progressed fine. Never for a minute did I freak out or think I was effed. But when my front wheel hit the curb the wrong way and sent me skidding across the pavement the situation got a little bloody. Left with crooked handle bars and bleeding knees I finally knew it was time to stop riding and figure out where the hell I was going. So my break took me to a walgreens where I purchased a diet coke and bandaids and then to a gas station to insure that the road I thought would lead back home indeed would. I chugged my diet coke on a bench next to a library, made dinner plans, and continued on my way. Fortunately by the miracle of God I made it home only to mount my bike with my soar ass 10 minutes later in order to head back to the North Park area for dinner.

The plan was to keep the whole adventure to myself, but eventually it leaked that I got lost in Skokie. I probably will never live it down. And why should I? Only someone really imbecilic could forget how to get back from Foster Ave to Rockwell St. But I did. I would like to say that I learned from the experience, but who am I kidding, the next time I would probably make the same mistake. Because even as I was lost never did I pay attention to how I wound up home. However eventually I did make it there, back to my place safe and sound.

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