Danger on Two Wheels

I want to be very careful not to turn this blog, or the purpose of it, into a soapbox for me to complain online about the things that piss me off.  The idea behind these little epistles of mine is to put to “paper” the things that I think about, inspire me, motivate or otherwise occupy my thoughts while riding my bicycle.  The reason partly is that in my own experience of exercise, half the battle is of course overcoming the physical fatigue from doing  similar repetitions over and over again, but the other two thirds (hehe) is the mental aspect. Treadmills or stationary bikes have never worked for me, even the groovy ones with the Televisions on the wall, because the mental torture of waiting out the time interval has always been too overwhelming.  Doing all that work, just to quit in the same place you were when you started seems at best an insult. At worst, screwing around on gym cardio equipment in front of all those other people just sucks on many levels.  It’s like paying a monthly fee to go nowhere, in fact, when I see this first hand, the Beatles tune “Nowhere Man” plays out on my inner jukebox.

Remember the old TV show, “Get Smart?”  Whenever Agent 86 wanted to converse privately with the “Chief” he would insist on lowering the “Cones of Silence” down from the ceiling.  The long glass tubes sat over each character as they tried, hilariously, to communicate with each other, unsuccessfully, until someone stepped underneath and yelled out!

At the gym, today’s version of the “Cones of Silence” is the headphones.  You can block out the entire world with a set of headphones on, connected to your Zune, or that other “I-thingy,” then rigorously sweat in the middle of a room full of other folks and essentially become invisible.  The only tether to reality used to be the headphone cord, but now Bluetooth has replaced that necessity.  You can cocoon yourself snuggly into your own world with your headphones, like the swivel lock on a port-a-potty, signaling to the rest of us that you are internally “Occupied.”

Today I had to hook up the trailer and take it with me to help a friend who is in the final stages of moving.  My job was to go to the “old” address and pick up some junk destined for the dump, like the other half of my load.  As it turned out, there wasn’t as much as I had thought and it did not fill the trailer, so I elected to tow it back home and wait a little longer until it was worth the time and money to go to the dump.  On the freeway, on the way, a big rig, unhappy with my observation of the trailer towing speed limit, clipped the back corner of the trailer, sending it into a violent side-to-side swing.  The force of it all managed to sheer off or dislodge the tilt pin (not sure cause I never found it) which upended the trailer.  I hit the brakes and managed to get toward the side of the road, but not before the now unbalanced load rolled over, separating from the tow hitch and safety chain.  I am relieved and glad that the trailer didn’t hit anyone else, but it did roll and spill its contents all over the place, bending the tongue backwards to the rear, and twisting the frame considerably out of square.

I know that accidents happen, and since the big rig didn’t stop I can only wonder if he even knew he hit me.  What really got my knickers in a twist was, while I collected the debris from the roadway, physically lifting the trailer and righting it onto the wheels, loading it back up with all the spilled and scattered trash, including some that I’m sure was on the roadside long before I arrived, and then making the necessary makeshift repairs on the side of the road to safely tow it off the freeway…..absolutely no one stopped to help. 

Lots of people slowed down and stared causing even more chaos, and several belligerent assholes even honked at me, but not one single individual had the common courtesy to pull over and lend a hand.  People marveled at the long gouge in the grass when the upside down trailer slid to a stop….you know, like the one Superman’s capsule left in the field in Smallville when he first arrived!  One guy even yelled “damn dude” as I hefted the twisted wreckage over on one edge, and then to its wheels. (I’m gonna be paying for that tomorrow….).  I was, unhappily, on my own.  

In countless similar situations, I have stopped.  I have pushed more out-of-gas cars up a filling station driveway than I’ve had breakfast.  I have even rescued more than a few folks in life threatening situations.  Last week myself and another guy got out of our vehicles at an intersection to help push another stranded pickup into a parking lot.  The pickup was sitting half on/half off the driveway with its bed blocking traffic and wouldn’t budge.  Looking through the back window, I could see the car was in park…(I know…..) so I approached the driver’s window to tell the girl to put it in neutral and release the brake.  She looked at me and in a rather “pissed off” tone and growled…..”Um…excuse me….I’m on the phone!”

We are, so many of us, stuck in our own “Cone of Silence.”  In our quest to never be alone, and to fill our ears and minds with constant entertainment and noise, we have managed to cut ourselves off from what’s going on around us.  We have successfully replaced our sense of compassion and community with cowardess and carelessness toward each other, our families and strangers. 

A Highway Patrol did stop, after about an hour.  He sat in his car for some time before approaching me, so I continued to work.  After a while he asked what happened.  Immediately it occurred to me to tell him that I did not think there was enough trash on the freeway, so I thought I would just dump mine here with the rest, but instead I smiled and explained what happened as he nodded politely.  He then advised me to be careful picking up debris, and not to step out into the oncoming freeway traffic.  My insides knotted up, but I did not show it.  I had not considered stepping out into traffic until his helpful suggestion.  I did momentarily consider leaving everything on the side of the road, trailer and all… 

I have, admittedly, got into the habit of wearing my own Bluetooth headphones while cycling.  I recently discovered the joy of podcasts and look forward to listening, thinking and pedaling.   I don’t play them loud at all and can hear everything around me.  Quite often, lost in my own thoughts I “tune out” the podcast or music and forget it’s even there.

I think that’s what happens to us in a bigger sense.  Distracted by our own background noise, we “tune-out” everything and everyone.  We don’t see the need for assistance, the need for kindness or even the simplest  want that is always right in front of us.  We no longer have to avert our gaze from the plight of the hungry or broken because we no longer even look in that direction.  Even the homeless intersection “attendants” whose cardboard sign has become the international symbol for the tin cup, are no longer satisfied to simply sit and wait for the generous.  Now they wave and move around in an attempt to get our attention.  It’s just matter of time until the Pizza sign spinners and the homeless share technology and employ a spinning “will work for food” sign.

What will it take to get our attention?  In my case, I am very fortunate that I had all I needed to get my own self mobile again, trailer and all.  It could have been worse, and should I have rolled my truck or struck another motorist, I wonder if I would have had to wait an hour, bleeding and hurt on the side of the road for help to stop by.   Let’s open our eyes.   With the exception of the one silly twit, cell phone glued to her ear, too busy to accept the kindness and concern of strangers, I have never been refused when offering help.  I have never in my life arrived upon the scene of some desperate situation only to be told that my help was not needed.  Your help is needed….all around….everywhere….

As a cyclist, it really makes me acutely aware that I spend a good deal of time “on the side of the road.”  I am legally allowed to use a traffic lane, but along with almost every other single cyclist on Morgan Freemans green planet, we chose to share and keep our skinny assess and tires over to the side.  Look for us.  We are there.