Yeah, that’s me. “Bike Dude.” Since my ancient blue beast of an Oldsmobile is still in the shop (three months and counting. Three months!) I’ve been going about on my bicycle, shopping here, doing errands there. It’s no big deal, really.
When I lived in Boston, I biked everywhere, even in the dead of winter. In fact, if I modeled at the Mass College of Art, sometimes my next gig was at B.U. So I had to hustle. Trek through slush and mud and avoid the maniac drivers. What fun.
So today, it was a breeze. And there certainly was a breeze out there, gusts at times of twenty to thirty miles an hour. There’s a very steep hill nearby, and descending it was a challenge. I was being blown back up the hill.
During my travels, I stopped into three different stores. When I approached the register at the first location, the clerk asked, “You’re not riding your bike in this weather, are you?”
“Um…no, I just thoroughly enjoy wearing my helmet for the hell of it.”
That’s what I wanted to say. It’s quite funny how many people say a variation of that question. The second store was no exception.
“My goodness, you’re pedaling your bike today?”
Hmm. I wonder what their first clue was. Perhaps there are people out there who do enjoy wearing a bike helmet for the hell of it. I, though, usually reserve it for when I am actually riding a bike.
The third store: “Biking in this weather? It’s winter!” Well, so it is. I must peer at my calendar more often.
But it really wasn’t so bad; low thirties, a breeze now and then, some swirling snow, but nothing too terrible. And if I do need a ride, in a car, my family is nice enough to offer. One time my Mum drove me to Assumption for a modeling gig, and another I had called my brother Joe, who lives in Worcester, if he could transport me home after a session at the Worcester Art Museum. And he obliged.
But if they remain simple tasks, simple excursions close to home, I just slap on extra layers, pull on my backpack, and off I go.
Oh, and the title to this piece? The last place I went into I inadvertently dropped a single crumpled one dollar bill on the floor. The next guy in line, some freshly-scrubbed, young college kid, yelled, “Yo! Bike dude! You dropped this!”
Yeah, that’s me. Bike dude.