Slipp'n and Slid'n

Sometimes, we all just have to learn the hard way. No better teacher than good ol' fashion pain, the bitch. Just when I was getting commuter cocky (I've ridden roads just about everywhere, no road can surprise me!), Pittsburgh sprung a little life lesson on me. Slapped me down a notch, and left me wimpering with my tail between my legs, so to speak. Okay, enough euphamisms and onto the carnage!

I always find winter weather to be most pleasant during a gentle snow: the air seems peaceful, sounds insulated, motions cushioned. Real poetic stuff that gentle snow is. And it was during a billowy dusting, that I learned a little physics lesson.

Thanks to Surly, I felt well equipped to ride the glistening streets. Sadly, Surly did not ensure proper brain function. As I pedaled along in Oakland, I became lax in my attention to the snowy road, or lack of road. It turns out, all manholes and street grates are made of steel, which provides much less traction than our dear cobbled streets. My elbow, knee, and ego can attest to this fact, as they are all deeply bruised, if not shattered (please heal dear elbow!) One little mispedal, and I found my backend slipping left, my frontend slipping right, and my body slipping into, well, gravel/scarf/handlebar/pedal/dirty snow. Luckily, my elbow was there to break my fall.

In valient and heroic speed, a noble man swiftly yelled down the street, "Are you okay?" "Haha, sure am" I replied, hobbling off into the tragically poetic snowy night. I never liked poetry much anyway.