I went errand running on the Minuteman trail, and at an intersection I stopped for a pedestrian crossing the perpendicular sidewalk and a skinny senior citizen roadie with a circa 1994 jersey on a steel bike of similar vintage making a left-hand turn from the roadway onto the trail, headed in the same direction as me. He stopped for me to cross, but I waved him through, as I figured he’d be going a lot faster than me.
It turns out that I was wrong, but as I passed him, he said to me “it almost looked like you were doing a trackstand there!”
I think he meant it as a compliment. I was fairly certain that I had done a trackstand at the intersection, but maybe on my ridiculous commuting bike wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and (also wrinkled) skirt, he really wasn’t expecting it? I just laughed like it was a joke, because really, what else could I do?
Then later, I got on my road bike in the ridiculous clothes meant for that purpose and took the Minuteman again, this time to get to Lexington where these things called “roads” don’t have traffic lights and MBTA bus stops every 12 feet. After arriving in Lexington, one can ride on these roads, upon which people can use a conveyance to travel in the same direction at high speeds while following a similar code of behavior. Crazy concept, I know.
I was headed west on the trail with some uber-commuters, and this guy sat behind me for awhile and then as he came around to pass he made some choice rude comments about the pedestrians we had recently passed. Now, these were not the smartest of pedestrians — the ones who zig zag across the center line for no real reason (maybe due to texting-while-walking?), but it’s an MUP and they belong on it, and it’s okay. There are these things called roads, and they are for people who want to go really fast while on-or-in wheeled devices.
This guy was really angry. He really wanted me to agree with him that the path was filled with idiots. I expressed my belief that these paths were for all users, and you had to accept that some were small children and some were blind and some might just not be all together present in the moment, but I don’t think he heard me.
But beyond my two weird conversations on the bike path, the major highlight of the very same day was getting someone else’s farmshare. Dan and I didn’t sign up with a CSA because we are used to having our own personal garden and growing a farmshare worth of food for about $35/year. Our community garden application was rejected, so we’ve been growing about a 1/4 farmshare worth of food in containers on our apartments “lawn” (for about $50 for the summer). What our sad urban garden lacks in diversity, we make up in salad greens and tiny, container-stunted tomatoes and peppers.
Some friends are out of town and offered us their CSA allotment for the week. I picked it up today, and then when I was out riding in the early evening, I could only think about how amazing it was to have fresh beets and happy fresh eggs for the first time in forever. So, I cut the ride short just to come home and cook fresh food.
I wish we could have a real garden and some hens; it would make urban living pretty much the best ever.