Thursday, May 04, 2017

Bike-scared some geezers

Atop the BYB I gain about two inches and thanks to it being a trike—three wheels for greater stability and strength—I can simply sit when I come to a stop to do things like find out on my phone where the fuck I am. I'm like a bikeder—a bicycle drider with the latter the half-Drow, half-spiders from D&D; three wheels for eight legs.

The bike-added height along with increased breadth of a lower-half now phat tricycle makes for a more intimidating presence and I presume it's more so when I'm in a oldster's blind spot.

I didn't mean to follow the old lady right up to the doors of Coles—the bike rack was to the left of those doors—but yes, follow her I did, in her geriatric blind spot but with enough of a presence that she could still sense me. I followed with just the electric motor on, the bike ticking with light menace, and I could see her spin her head back a few times to see what the fuck was behind her.

Later, on the way back, it was an old dude's turn. I was behind him on a path between bays and he kept swiveling  to check my looming presence.

The bitter irony is I am middle-aged with a body that is in parts literally geriatricmy remaining hip is like that of an 80-year-old. I look older than I am; I am a geezer. 

But on the bike I'm half-geezer, half-bike and that all makes me fully awesome.

(ting! ting!)

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