6.14.2009

4299

Riding does a good job of settling my mind sometimes. I needed it tonight, so I went out around 12. I got into it with one of the summer orientation workers on campus. He felt the need to tell me not to ride the one particular ledge I was riding for some reason or another. He even politely mentioned that the police might get involved if I didn't leave. I explained to him that he should just call the police because I really do hate for him to have to deal with me and would much rather have an officer roll up and awkwardly ask me what I'm doing when I'm clearly just riding my bike, which is always my answer, which always results in a perplexed sort of look. And then they let me be. But I didn't want this fine young chap to have to deal with my nonsense. Unfortunately, he ended up being one of those people that has an ego. When I mentioned I would rather him just call the police he said that he wasn't going to, a stressed tone to his voice, and explained that he was simply asking me to do him a favour. Well played on his part, then I look like an ass for not doing it, though I don't know many people who make police threats when asking others to do them a favour - and with this I declined. Long story short, I got sick of him giving me a hard time for no reason and just politely explained that since I knew it didn't matter much to his well being I was going to keep riding the spot. I mean, I'm out riding my bike alone at midnight. That is, I clearly have issues. I feel like my emotional content is much more important than his, a well plump student walking around with two lovely female co-workers. Both of them were nice, though I don't doubt they were speaking poorley of me once they'd left.

I grinded the ledge a couple of times. First I accidentally double pegged it. Then I feebled it like I had been trying to my first go. And finally rode down it, which was a first for me. It's tough to get back in the riding state of mind once you've been forced to argue with someone, but I managed to tonight.

On my way home I picked up a hitch hiker. How old she was I couldnt tell you - her face looked like she was 80 but she didn't have a single gray hair. I figured her for a meth head at first, but later learned she only smoked weed and was homeless. I asked her where she was headed and she said she was going to Route 63. I asked where route 63 was and she told me. My apartment complex was only a minute down the road, so I said I wasn't going that far. She was perfectly content on my only giving her a ride to the intersection just past my complex, and on that note I offered her a ride to her destination which she told me was six or seven miles down the road. Fuck if it matters to me, I was in no rush.

She was suprised I was willing to go that far and thanked me. I figured she was nice to have been happy with just getting a ride any distance. She was good company too. I went home and thought about how a jobless, homeless woman could be so much more pleasant, curteous and have better values than the 20 year old prick on campus. The places riding bikes brings me...

1 comment:

  1. You should have made that bitch work for her ride. You know what I'm talkin bout. It's the rules of the road.

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