So it’s the summer of 2008, the price of gas is over $4 a gallon. I’m sitting in the backyard with my friend and fellow commuter Brian. We’re having a few adult beverages watching my dog destroy our back yard. It doesn’t get much better than this. Brian and I are grousing about the price of gas. It’s an outrage. There’s a glut of oil, yet the powers that be have determined that we all need to PAY through the nose!
One more beer and I have an epiphany. I will Not PAY the MAN any more. Enough is enough, it’s time to make a serious statement and stand up for something.
To solve the gas crisis, I’ve decided that instead of driving to the train station every day, I’ll ride a bicycle the 4 miles there and back. I still have a gift certificate to a local sporting goods store from my birthday last year. (Right there, that should have been a signal) I go to the sporting goods store and purchase a very cool black knapsack that can hold a laptop. I’m done with the briefcase, I’m now Mr. Green. And I will NOT be paying the MAN any longer!
The other side benefit is that I can get back into some sort of shape…who knows what I could make myself into doing 8 miles a day.
There was one little problem (and it’s not the fact that I need to wear a suit to work every day, which of course I had not thought through). The problem was that I live on top of a mountain…in the morning its 4 miles almost straight down. You go very fast. Another neighbor who was an avid cyclist warned me that early in the morning, even in the summer, when you’re cruising at 50 mph…it gets nippy. Okay, yeah fine…I survived.
The return trip was a different story.
It’s now about 7PM, oh.. 87 degrees out, and the humidity is about the same…87%. My 1978 Raleigh Team Sport 10 Speed bike is still at the train parking lot…what a shame. I’m a little run down, but still kind of excited about getting my exercise and defeating Exxon.
I start out on relatively flat terrain and I’m cruising, my confidence is building. I then run into a gradual incline which is causing me significant discomfort. I blame it on the 30 year old technology I’m riding. Then like Lance Armstrong I hit the base of the mountain and begin to shift into lower gears as my lungs begin to scream at me. They were using a lot of four letter words. It’s now pretty clear that even if this bike had negative gears, I’d still be in a world of hurt. (Usually at this point in the movies, the cyclist summons some supernatural power and its mind over matter, he fights through the agony and triumphs. I can tell you right now, that’s a bunch of crap.) At this point I’m drenched in perspiration and my lungs can’t process oxygen any longer. I look down at my chest…it’s as if I have a pet rock in my breast pocket and he wants out….only that’s my heart bouncing off the walls of my rib cage. I’m now being passed by biking families with small children, people in walkers…. It’s not good.
I get home totally humiliated. My family asks me if I stopped off to go swimming…with my clothes on. Fortunately for them I only had enough breath to scream for paramedics.
I think I made my point…that one day…the price of gas did come down.
I Win.
Did you also realize the bottle of water you carried while riding your fancy 10 speed cost you about $7 a gallon? I laughed that year every time I got in an elevator and listened to someone complain about gas prices with a bottle of poland spring in their hand. ---Phil
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