BIKEPGH MESSAGE BOARD ARCHIVE

A little story about why I love winter, even when I think I won't (!) Last night, Q and I headed out for a date-night-by-bike. About a minute into the ride, it started spitting a little, and then those big huge slushy snow clumps started falling, and then they were falling so fast and so heavily that our pants were soaking wet. My glasses were covered in slush and I couldn't see well -- I was pretty much only following Q's blinker. When we got to our destination, I foolishly wiped the slush off my jacket with my still-gloved hands and soaked them through. When we came back to our bikes, my pants had dried, but my gloves were still sopping wet and the slush on my helmet had frozen into a lumpy ice coating. Q loaned me a spare pair of gloves but I felt sort of ill-prepared and dejected and had a bit of the January of the soul as we got back on our bikes. But! We cut back down through Chatham and it was so lovely! So much quieter, the air was calmer, no cars, and all the decorative grasses were coated thickly in beautiful white snow, and the trees were lit so dramatically. But the best part of all was that in the darkest spots, my front wheel sent some of the road slush spinning up into the air, and my front light would catch the droplets and illuminate them, and it looked like a tiny fireworks display right in front of my bike. The little bonuses of riding year round!