Biking on Wednesdays

I didn't ride my bike today. It's another bad air day, with orange level alerts for both ozone and particulates. Plus a heat index of 102 with highs in the high 90s. It's OK, I guess, if I don't ride my damn bike every single day. I don't have to feel guilty about it. But if I thought it all through, I think I'd stop riding my bicycle altogether on Wednesdays on account of here in the land of a bazillion baptists (that's pronounced 'babtists,' apparently, if you're from here), Wednesday night is church night, and no matter which route I take home, I have to pass at least two churches.

Big deal, you say. Why should a bunch of churchgoing yahoos harsh your buzz so royally that you want to stay off the street? Are they so zealous that they have to stop and witness to passing bicyclists? Is cycling some kind of abomination, or is there something in Leviticus or the teachings of St. Paul that suffereth a woman not to ride a damn bike? Are they offended by those little skirts that you wear biking? Are you such a heathen that the very presence of a bunch of christians can wreck your day?

No, I'll tell you what it is: these people are a fucking traffic hazard. Seriously.

In the first place, there's a lot of them. And because all the churches have so many different activities Wednesday nights, it's impossible to predict what time would be best to pass by. It's like there's this ebbing and flowing swarm of them and they're all over the place and they're just not looking where they are going. The teenage girls are furtively watching the teenage boys, who are of course watching them. Mom is busy trying to herd a bunch of girls who are dressed like refugees from the set of like 'Little House on the Prairie' or something across the street in the crosswalk. Grandma is clutching her pocketbook and looking around warily. She saw it on the news the other night that little old ladies get mugged all the damn time, and she's pretty sure tonight is her night. She doesn't see me of course on account of I'm white. She's easy to miss though because she's moving pretty slowly.

Dad sees me at least; he's staring right at my tits as I swerve to avoid him and the car door he has just opened in my path. I imagine he's thinking about the sins of Bathsheba* as he stammers an apology. This is by far the worst menace. The car door opening, I mean, not immodest women.

Anyone fool enough to ride a bike on city streets knows that it's safest to act as if every car door will in fact open when you're right alongside of it. But once you've seen five people get out of a Civic and cross the street and go into a building, you're surprised when the driver's door opens and someone gets out. Maybe you're riding defensively enough that you're sort of prepared for it, and there's no collision, but what was he doing in there? Having an NPR Driveway Moment^SM? Didn't think so. Getting high? Reading a little bit of scripture, maybe, before going on in to the fellowship hall?

And you can forget about anything you might have thought about how friendly and polite these freshly-scrubbed, modestly dressed people must be. They're every bit as rude and hostile as people in a hurry anywhere else. They not only ignore the presence of a passing bicyclist, they aren't paying any attention at all to passing cars, either. And they're rude and hostile when they're driving their cars too, honking and cutting in front of people, and turning without using their signals & then getting mad at other drivers for not using their signals. Oh, and harassing females. A couple of weeks ago on a Wednesday, I was going over the bridge just before this one church, and a shiny red car full of college boys rode past me, slowed down and rode alongside me for a while, then slightly behind me, then a bit ahead of me -- shouting crude sexual remarks the whole time and making rude gestures. For quite a while. I mean, it was quite a bit beyond the kind of scene where you can just maybe flip 'em a bird & forget about it. Scary-type shit, actually. Then they sped up, cut in front of me, and into the church parking lot, whereupon they piled out and started tossing a frisbee.

How fucking wholesome.

On the other hand, Wednesday is a great night to go to the grocery store, or the laundromat, or anyplace else you want to avoid a crowd.

*Thanks to Emma at Gendergeek for the Sins of Bathsheba link.