Commute

When I was a kid I used to love reading the comic Calvin and Hobbes.  I remember one strip in particular where Calvin's dad has just come home from a bike ride in what appears to be severely inclement weather.  His glasses are fogged and icicles are dripping off his grinning face.  He's singing and cheerful while Calvin looks on with a look that clearly states, "there is something wrong with you."  When I was a kid I thought it was hilarious because there was no way that people in real life would ever actually use a bicycle as a primary mode of transportation or go riding in that sort of weather.

That comic occurred to me again the other day while I was carrying my bike the last two blocks to my office.  I was carrying it because for some reason my rear derailleur was in my rear spokes, so not only was it impossible to ride the damn thing, it also didn't roll in any way.  In my mind this is the point at which a true bike enthusiast would whip out their road tool kit and handbook and do something miraculous with their years of acquired mechanical know how.  What I do is pride myself on knowing that thing is called a derailleur, stare at it for awhile, try unsuccessfully to yank it back into place, and swear. 
The derailleur experience is particularly annoying because I'm sure it was caused by a wreck on black ice some two weeks prior, adding insult to my still healing scrapes and bruises.  Last winter I developed a rule for myself, saying that if the temperature dropped below 32 I wouldn't ride due to the strong likelihood of black ice on the perpetually wet Seattle streets.  It's a great rule.  Breaking it led to my sliding across the road elbow first about five minutes from my house.  As I hit the ground the voice in my head screamed GETUPGETUPGETUPGETUPGETUP and before I knew it I was crouched on my feet looking for blockers.  It took about five seconds to realize that I was not playing roller derby and no one was trying to kill me.  At that point I almost got back down on the ground just to have the luxury of lying there and moaning. 
The winter commute is a challenge at best.  It's cold and damp outside.  I won't see the sun for months.  The wind often blows, announcing winter fronts from the Pacific and it will knock me down or buffet me into a parked car if I'm not careful.  There is no good way to prevent my legs from getting wet.  Rain pants are too hot to possibly be comfortable except on those mornings that the prospect of spending the first 25 minutes of the ride battling overall numbness overwhelms the desire to avoid spending the last 20 minutes of the ride sticky with exertion.  The result is an hour and a half of my day spent hunched over, peddling mindlessly and dripping.  I also spend a fair amount of time swearing at the idiot drivers who for some reason want to express their rage at me for following traffic laws while they cut me off. 
So why bike when a bus is  faster, drier and does not require expensive repairs?  Because I feel like commuting via bike all winter is a great way to say "fuck you" to the Seattle rain.  There is nothing I can do about winter.  The weather will be nasty and/or generally depressing without any input from me.  Some people would buy a sun lamp.  I choose to embrace the struggle and rail against the elements.  It means that every day I ride I get to come home, unwind my body and shake off the rain in a steaming mess of glory, feeling like a god for defeating yet another 15 miles of winter.
<originally posted 1.6.12>