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Majority of my city bike-commuting experiences are positive –interesting, funny, beautiful, and so on. For example, the time when a MBTA bus pulled next to me on Mass. Ave., opened the passenger door and the driver called, “Do you want to race?”
Or the time when a tractor-trailer stopped beside me at a light and the driver honked the horn, pointed to my rainbow legwarmers, and gave me a thumbs-up.
Or spotting tiny frogs on the path while heading up Olmstead along the J-way on a wet, rainy night.
Or the time when a 70-something woman passed in front of me on a crosswalk and exclaimed, “You’re awfully cute!”
And then there are the bike-commuting experiences that can best be encapsulated by the phrase: oh MY (insert favorite sacrilege expletive.)
Like yesterday when I witnessed two cars smash together in the bike lane on Hampshire Street in Cambridge.
Or yesterday when I passed two separate incidents of women weeping (one wearing scrubs and clogs, tucked behind a tree, another on a bench with a friend) along the Muddy River in the Back Bay Fens.
Or last week when I think I saw someone stealing from a car parked near the Riverside Whole Foods, promised myself I’d report it when I got to work, and then of course promptly forgot.
Like the aforementioned Incident Behind Jackson Square Station.
Like when there’s a full moon and everybody gets just a little bit odd –you’ll never seen more mid-road K-turns or multiple-car assorted contortions on tight side-streets, than during a full moon!
Phoebe Sinclair Writes 