4-21-05 - 2


Having an imagination is a horrible curse. I'm now terrified to go for a bike ride around here. For you to understand, first I have to catch you up on the water bottle story. A few weeks ago I was riding out in the country near my house. Now, I ride a fancy bike and I wear all the proper tight bike gear, so I look like a total douche, that's established. I was riding along, and a big black truck was coming down the road the opposite way, when suddenly I noticed something flying out of the truck, and it slammed into me, *hard*. It was a water bottle, Aquafina, full, and it hit me in the arm. I slammed on my brakes, quite astonished and in struggling to believe what just happened. He took off; I flipped him off and turned around and stood there for a while waiting for my adrenaline to go down. That was a few weeks ago, and ever since I've been sort of scared to ride. Not because I'm scared of another water bottle hitting me or anything like that, but rather because if I go ride out there, I might see the black truck again, and if I did, I'd have to try to get in a fight with him, and then I imagine all sorts of things. If it was just a fair fist fight, that would be great, even if I lost, it would be a physical expression of grievance, which is a beautiful thing (all physical expression of emotion is great). In my imagination, that's not what happens. He gets out of the truck and starts to walk toward me, but then another guy gets out of the passenger side, with a giant pipe wrench in his hand. I'm in my bike shoes, so I'm clomping around and can barely walk. The driver just stands there and smiles while the guy with the wrench runs at me, a long, slow loping run. I try to clomp away, but he quickly reaches me and takes a big swing. I put my arm up to block it, and the wrench hits my forearm with a crunching sound, breaking my bones. I turn and buckle and clutch my arm, and he swings again and again; I hear my ribs breaking more than I feel it.

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