People here call me crazy. The call me fou to be more precise. They are people who are not used to my free spirit. They don't mean to insult me, it's an observation, maybe even touched with some envy. It's not new, my nieces and nephews all called my crazy too. I see human beings, I interact. I am not ashamed of myself. I am a living breathing member of the same planetary community that you are. So if you meet me, I will probably say hello.
The weather forecast today was bad. It was supposed to be a dry morning a wet afternoon and a dry evening. We are having car problems so I agreed to ride to work. I left the house at 640 am and about half way to my destination it started to rain. Oh well I thought. When I got to work, one of my colleagues asked me had I come in on the bike. When I answered yes, the reply was, " Mais t'est fou toi, il pleut", your are crazy, it's raining. I told her that when we have to wrestle with a wild bear, we don't stop when we get tired, we stop when the bear gets tired.
As I was coming home it rained a lot harder. The waves were pounding the coast road, it was dark and windy. I had been taking it a little easy to make sure I was safe. I got to the point of realising I was the only one on a normally busy bike path. That it was dark, I was well lit but my vision was bad with rain on my eye shields and lack of street lighting and as I saw the huge waves come half way up the beach I let out a huge woop of joy. I continued on my way, singing, laughing, imagining my Iron man. I was touched that lover had messaged me to see did she want me pick me up. But I refused, it's days like this that make Ironmen. The rain continued, and eventually I got closer to Nice seeing more and more people with no lights trying to make their way home on two wheels. I passed one guy on a bike with an umbrella, cycling with one hand. I thought to myself what an idiot , he is going to have an accident. My next thought was to break into song. I sang out loud at the top of my voice. "Cecilia, you're breaking my heart...." I didn't get any further, I let out a really loud wooah woop fuck...I had taken a slight chicane in the bike path around the bus stop, right, forward, left, forward. Not a turn just a lean on the bike one way then the other. However as I lent the other way left, the back wheel went right, my body went rigid, my brain worked quicker than I could cope with. My body went to the right to catch the bike and pull it back left, I caught it, it slipped again and then righted... I didn't fall. A double slip kept me quiet for a minute.. I giggled nervously... a pain started in my knee and another in my hip..I had remained locked in. I am sure it's due to the yoga and my fitness in general that I didn't end up hitting the deck.
I had spent yesterday cleaning up the bike...the Fragile Rocket is the name I have for it at the moment. It's alive beneath me, it bends and twists and bucks like a living being. It was an utter waste as it was completely coated in fresh dirt. As I made my way homeward and stopped at a red light, some guy on a electric bicycle started to talk to me. In a few minutes making our way up the hill, him going easy, me busting up my last reserves peddling like a mad man, I gleaned an interesting story. He was born in Nice, American father, Argentinian Wife. He gleaned my Irish French Italian connnections. We talked bikes and cost... I finally let him ride away...another crazy dude, just like me.
The weather forecast today was bad. It was supposed to be a dry morning a wet afternoon and a dry evening. We are having car problems so I agreed to ride to work. I left the house at 640 am and about half way to my destination it started to rain. Oh well I thought. When I got to work, one of my colleagues asked me had I come in on the bike. When I answered yes, the reply was, " Mais t'est fou toi, il pleut", your are crazy, it's raining. I told her that when we have to wrestle with a wild bear, we don't stop when we get tired, we stop when the bear gets tired.
As I was coming home it rained a lot harder. The waves were pounding the coast road, it was dark and windy. I had been taking it a little easy to make sure I was safe. I got to the point of realising I was the only one on a normally busy bike path. That it was dark, I was well lit but my vision was bad with rain on my eye shields and lack of street lighting and as I saw the huge waves come half way up the beach I let out a huge woop of joy. I continued on my way, singing, laughing, imagining my Iron man. I was touched that lover had messaged me to see did she want me pick me up. But I refused, it's days like this that make Ironmen. The rain continued, and eventually I got closer to Nice seeing more and more people with no lights trying to make their way home on two wheels. I passed one guy on a bike with an umbrella, cycling with one hand. I thought to myself what an idiot , he is going to have an accident. My next thought was to break into song. I sang out loud at the top of my voice. "Cecilia, you're breaking my heart...." I didn't get any further, I let out a really loud wooah woop fuck...I had taken a slight chicane in the bike path around the bus stop, right, forward, left, forward. Not a turn just a lean on the bike one way then the other. However as I lent the other way left, the back wheel went right, my body went rigid, my brain worked quicker than I could cope with. My body went to the right to catch the bike and pull it back left, I caught it, it slipped again and then righted... I didn't fall. A double slip kept me quiet for a minute.. I giggled nervously... a pain started in my knee and another in my hip..I had remained locked in. I am sure it's due to the yoga and my fitness in general that I didn't end up hitting the deck.
I had spent yesterday cleaning up the bike...the Fragile Rocket is the name I have for it at the moment. It's alive beneath me, it bends and twists and bucks like a living being. It was an utter waste as it was completely coated in fresh dirt. As I made my way homeward and stopped at a red light, some guy on a electric bicycle started to talk to me. In a few minutes making our way up the hill, him going easy, me busting up my last reserves peddling like a mad man, I gleaned an interesting story. He was born in Nice, American father, Argentinian Wife. He gleaned my Irish French Italian connnections. We talked bikes and cost... I finally let him ride away...another crazy dude, just like me.
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