It started like any big day full of bike errands, as we do. I even did a selfie for you in my gear before I left. I really love that about biking. Finding the most functional, comfortable gear is always evolving. I quite enjoy that part of it.
I rode to the Expo Center for my booster shot. When I booked it, I thought it was INSIDE the Expo center and NOT a drive-thru, as that was not clear on the sign-up, but we do what we do. It was a bit unnerving going through Smith & Bybee, as Google Maps took me, and popping out on a stretch of Marine Drive without a bike lane, and with the sketchiest sidewalk you’ve ever seen. The sidewalk conditions forced me into one of the two lanes heading East, and naturally earned me some aggressive freight truck horns, as if I was having the time of my life infuriating them on purpose.
The OHSU folks at the Expo were pure kindness. So so great. Even chatted up the nurses at the observation station - one has an ebike as their 2nd car and the other gave me some excellent tips on Outdoor Research gear (I just ordered OR mitts and her pants were excellent. She said Next Adventure has some good gear on sale.) They prioritize Walk Ups (MAX station is right there) and cyclist through line!!! So, happy accident, right? Right.
So next, before any booster side effects may or may not happen, I needed to drop off returns at the Walgreens Fed Ex drop off (why, Fed Ex & Walgreens - why do you stress these folks out more??) and head out to get some Christmas dinner groceries. I was happy as a freakin’ clam, having had such a great adventure so far, and was feeling good.
That my dear friends is a puddle of chew spit under my front tire, spilled down through my bike basket, at Walgreens. Don’t zoom in. I saved you from the lovely chunky bits - they’re hidden under my bag. A whole, full cup, dumped.
My first reaction? Yeah. I wanted to just go home, crawl back into bed, cry about life being too hard, too mean, wanting to give in and buy a damn car; I felt absolutely defeated and crushed. Crushed.
Then I remembered who I am. I don’t cry. I fight. I turned off the e-assist and took it out on the road to the grocery store. Took it out on my thighs. Took it out on my lungs.
I grabbed the cart wipes and spray at the grocery store and cleaned off my bike. I was raised in Boring with hicks and chew. I’ve cleaned more spit cups in bars than baby’s asses, and I’ve had a lot of babies.
I hope it was personal. I hope they really wanted to get to me specifically. I HOPE they find me again and again. Please. Take it out on me. Help me dig in and fight. Keep me from entropy and complacency. That anger and hatred is better served on me who will turn it back around than on a spouse or child, so bring it. I’ve handled worse from better.