"There's no such thing as a bad bike ride!" That's a quote I've been very fond of using when anyone asked me how my ride was. It was just my way of saying to folks that it doesn't matter if it's raining or shining, windy or still, freezing or scorching - if I'm on the bike, it is a good thing. It was my subtle way of suggesting that I'm made of tough stuff.
After my ride home yesterday afternoon, I have but two words for that flippant quote. It is one, great big, humongous, smelly pile of "BS".
After more than 20 years of serious bike riding, I finally experienced a bad, really bad, ride. I work for a large manufacturing company. As such, there are a lot of employees at the facility. At quitting time, the masses rush out the gates, jump in their cars and jostle for position. Typically, I avoid this fray by waiting at least a half hour before leaving work. Unfortunately yesterday, I had someplace I needed to be that necessitated my taking part in this maddening, rush hour dance. To make matters worse, a massive thunderstorm descended on the dance floor just as the music reached it's peak. I found myself slap dab in the middle of a Mosh Pit.
I will spare you the harrowing details of that ride. Suffice it to say, I was squeezed, cut off and almost run over more times in that 15 minute interval, than a person should endure in a lifetime. I arrived at my destination unharmed physically, but mentally and emotionally spent. My hands shook as I locked up my bike. I leaned against the light pole, breathed deeply and attempted to compose myself. If someone had approached me at that inopportune moment and asked my how was my ride, I would have stared at them in wide eyed wonderment and exclaimed, "IT F***ING SUCKS - I HATE IT!!!"