Monday, July 31, 2017


When I run, I find that bicyclists now and then startle me. Some announce "on your left" from a couple of feet back. Others suddenly appear without a sound as they speed by my elbow. Once in a great while there is cyclist who will repeat "on your left" as if he thought of the pavement as all his to use, and of pedestrians as intruders. Commonly they are moving at three times my speed or more; I don't blame them--why else use a bike?--but it can make them hard to dodge and would make for a forceful collision if one didn't manage to dodge. I am wary of bicyclists as a class.

On Sunday, a couple of young bicyclists passed on the other side of the road, bantering. They were far enough away to be perceived neutrally, and I noticed them only by the woman's light green top. Probably I would have forgotten them by the end of the run as thoroughly as I forgot the rest of the day's  bicyclists apart from the "on your left" fellow on the upstream leg.

But half a mile on, they were stopped beside a motorized wheelchair. They had found the young man in it complaining of a sudden pain in his hand, and stopped. They had removed the ant that was biting him between the thumb and index finger of his left hand. They assured him that he was not bleeding. At his request the male cyclist raised the young man's arm enough that he could see where he had been bitten. The young woman assured him that she had often sustained briefly painful bites but suffered no consequences from them. I could see that they were going to remain until they had restored the young man to peace of mind, and I went on.

No comments:

Post a Comment