I am a big dumb ass.
If you know me, this will come as no great shock, but allow me to elaborate:
Our fair city, MPLS, is in the north central region of the USA, and in winter it gets cold here. Really cold. Stupid cold. And it snows a lot usually, too. Winter this year has taken a long time coming but for the last day or two we Minnesotans watched as the local news stations tracked a blob of cold air the size of South Dakota moving eastward across the plains, closer and closer to us. The cold air was pushing against the warm air sitting over the plains, making for sudden temperature drops, gale force winds, and turning rain into ice in mid air. News stories told of downed power lines due to freezing rain, showed footage of car after car after car in the ditches after sliding off the suddenly icy roads, and reported the deaths of those caught in the path of the storm.
Last night it hit us. We had plenty of warning, and in fact the storm lost a lot of its punch by the time it reached us. Nonetheless, it was the first real ice and snow of the season here, and if past experience has taught me anything it is that people have short memories when it comes to past experiences. By this I mean that the first couple of snowstorms every season bring roadways to a standstill. Since I figured the roads would be hell, I planned last night on riding my bike to work today.
This morning I awoke...slowly...and thought about the ride. I was tired. I was stiff. It was cold and windy outside. Looking out the window from my warm house, still in my jammies, getting on the bike did not seem as appetizing as it had last night. In fact, I began to make excuses: this is Minnesota and people know how to drive in the snow here; it's going to be slick, and even though the bike will do o.k. cars will still be sliding all over and I don't feel like getting hit. So I showered and walked the dog, and went to start the car. And that's when I discovered problem number one: the rain we had yesterday turned to sleet and snow overnight, freezing the latch on the VW so although the door would open, it wouldn't latch shut. Sonofabitch. I got the propane torch from the basement and thawed the latch mechanism.
This should have been a clue to abandon driving, to call in and tell them I'd be late but would ride in. But again, I'm a big dumb ass. Before I even got to the highway I knew what I was in for. No problem, I thought, in much the same manner I had employed to excuse myself from the guilt of driving in the first place: I'll see how the highways are and take side roads if I need to. Ha.
I'll spare you the details, as they involve a lot of swearing, but the gist is 20 miles of parking lots in the shape of roads. The point is it took me more than twice as long to drive as normal, which means it was only about 20 minutes short of the time it would have taken me to ride.
If you're a cyclist you've been through a similar inner dialogue I'm sure. It's cold, it's raining or snowing, whatever the reason, and riding just doesn't seem appetizing. But of course that's before you get on the bike. Dressed right, it only takes me about 10 or 15 minutes to warm up, and to discover that I made the right choice in riding. I arrive with blood pulsing, feeling free from the restraints of the motorized cubicle, feeling...well, superior to those poor suckers in cars. Today I was one of those suckers. And of course I have to drive home too. See? Dumb ass.