So as I wend my merry way home, musing on tonight’s dinner or how I just might do some pilates today, I expect to get a few looks of curiosity, interest, or even amuseument. I don’t, however, expect a large red SUV full of grown men to swing by, to hear shouts and laughter, and see a handful of ice fired straight at me from the passenger window.
Yes, grown men threw stuff at me for fun, because I was on a bicycle. What are you, six? I wasn’t even wearing shorts - not that that would excuse it in the least, but I suppose I might think it made me a bit more conspicuous. Oh wait, I was on a bike. There’s all the conspicuousness I needed.
Most of the ice fell short but some hit me, one piece got me on the chest hard enough to hurt a bit and leave a wet mark on my t-shirt that lasted all the way home. They could have put my eye out, you know. Once I’d recovered from the sheer amazement, I moved rapidly to fury and swore loudly at them (when I should have been looking at their licence plate). A little futher on, a man whose car was blocking my way said “Are you okay?” as I swerved around him. Still jarred, I didn’t know if he was coming on to me or what, and just said “Fine” in a high-pitched, sod-off sort of voice. I turned around to see him getting back into his car and I realised he’d actually seen what happened and stopped to make sure I was all right. Which was really decent of him. And I’d just been rude. Which made me feel worse. If you’re reading, sorry for being so snotty, and thank you. I hope you realised I thought you were just another person getting on my case for riding a bike. For heaven’s sake.