My garden, while only about a mile from where I used to live, is currently 8 miles away.
Interestingly, it takes the exact same amount of time to drive as it does to bike, and since the bike doesn’t burn $4 a gallon gas I usually prefer to ride than drive.
But lately I’ve had this shoulder issue, and it seems to cycle (no pun intended) between ‘getting better’ and ‘won’t this thing ever stop fucking hurting’.
Today’s physical therapy appointment wasn’t until noon, and since I’ve been in a ‘getting better’ phase, I decided to bike instead of drive. Hey, I’m unemployed and gas is expensive (for the US).
So I hopped on the bike and headed out. I swear I behaved – I didn’t lean on the handlebars and I stayed off of the drops. I got to the garden fine – no pain and I felt really good. I dumped my veggie scraps into my compost bin, watered the seedlings (leeks, rutabegas, parsnips, beets and celery that looks like it’s not going to come up), admired the out-of-control fava beans (looks like I’m in for another 50 lb harvest from my tiny plot), and weeded for a few minutes.
I then headed out as I needed to be at the PT place.
About a mile into the return trip, I started hurting. Bad.
I then, for the first time in my life, decided to do the sensible thing and catch a bus back home.
I found a bus stop and sat. And sat, and sat and sat.
With the clock ticking (can’t be late, don’t want to anger tiny Asian woman who is torturing me), I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer and started riding, figuring eventually a bus would catch up to me and then I could give my poor shoulder some rest.
Except no bus came. I kept looking over my shoulder, hoping I’d see something – anything. Any bus would do.
Normally, when I’m biking, I have to avoid being flattened by a bus approximately every five minutes, so the complete lack of buses just when I really needed one was maddening.
Every time I looked back and didn’t see a bus, I’d let loose with a torrent of language that would likely shock a sailor. At one traffic light, a police car pulled up beside me, and the nice officer asked me what the problem was.
“I’m hurting and need to catch a bus, but now I can’t find one.”
“So.. they’re just like cops, then?”
Yes, indeed. Just like cops. Only not on a frantic manhunt which involves several innocent drivers getting shot up.
I finally saw a bus two block from my apartment.