gurdymonkey | Tanka challenge 4/21/11

We nod a greeting.
The light changes, we pedal,
I fall in behind.
At the bridge I can't help think:
Real men don't ride on sidewalks.

The backstory: As some of my readers know, I have started riding my bike/hopping BART to and from work for about a week. I had just exited the station and taken the lane at the light so I could make the left onto Fruitvale. A man bikes up on my right and puts his right foot out onto the curb. We nod hellos. Familiar? Not sure at this point. Black bike helmet of the sort that sits high on the head with lots of vents, dark glasses, yellow anorak, backpack, black hybrid commuter bike.

I know I don't have a lot of speed on my push-off, so I stay left as I make my turn to give him room to pass on my right and get to the bike lane first. He brakes for a bunch of Hispanic kids who hadn't quite finished ambling across the train tracks. I give him a reasonable following distance, but am pleased to see I'm not any slower than he is. He speeds up to make the double green lights under the freeway. I do so as well, wondering what the light in front of the bridge looks like because I can only see the red for the protected left from this distance.

I try to build some momentum for the rise, praying I don't have to dump it all to stop at the light. Still green, still green, I'm no more than a car length behind Yellow Anorak Guy when he suddenly darts right and takes the sidewalk - the one with the posted sign that says bikes must be WALKED on the walkway). I reach down and slap my antique shifter, pedaling like mad as the light turns yellow. There's a caCHUNK as Mimi shifts into second and I pass that sidewalk-riding yuppie m#@&%$f*$&r* at the crest of the bridge, sit up, caCHUNK back to first and enjoy the breeze as I fly down the other side of the bridge to the next light.

*I appear to have been channeling

baronalejandro or something.

The teensy weensy leg killing hill at the bridge done for the day, I relax. No hurry at this point, it's not like I'm gonna be late for home, right?

I hang a left, bouncing over the old trolley tracks onto Everett past the body shop, then right on Clement, instead of going straight on Blanding all the way to Oak, because it spits you out on at a four-way-stop, some corners of which are easier to see around than others. I hit a red light at Park Street. As I pedal up to the four-way stop at Oak and Clement, I see Yellow Anorak run the stop sign on Oak and make the turn onto Clement ahead of me. Recognition: I've passed him in my truck going home before.