Fang Talks

The Odd Music Box

Well, sort of.

Saturday night fun times at a friend’s place, I’m one of the two people able to show up. Before starting the forty minute bike ride to get to him, I check the weather online and see a bit of rain is going to cover my route. In the sky there’s a dark blanket of clouds which I assumed was the source of that predicted rainfall. “If I leave now, I can probably stay ahead of it.” Mistake number one.

I make it to the halfway point of the dike I needed to cross (these are the Netherlands, after all), a cute little building, and I’m still dry. Looking ahead, I can see some downpour on my path, but nothing too bad. Besides, I was facing the wind, so it’d blow over my quicker. Mistake number two, I make the decision to just keep going instead of seeking refuge in the mentioned structure.

A little bit further, the heavens break open above me, sending an ungodly amount of water down unto me. Remember, I’m facing the wind, so the droplets are hitting me surprisingly hard and making it hard for me to see more than a blurry, drowned-out version of the path I’m on. Shit, my phone’s still in my pocket. It probably would’ve survived, but I erred on the side of caution and made a quick stop to throw the thing into my backpack. I was already fully soaked anyway, I’d much rather enjoy the crazy ride without worries about electronics. Mistake number three.

The wind had picked up, and a particularly strong gust pushed my bike over while I was busying myself with the backpack. It sucked, but whatever, not that big a deal. I pick it back up, get seated, and push on the pedals. Swoosh. Fuck, the chain had come off. After months of no problems, the thing decided now was the right time to start acting up again. I curse, flip my bike over, get the back end of the chain onto the gear, flip my bike upright again, and pedal. Swoosh. More cursing, more bike flipping, but no more chain fixing. It had come off the front gears, where the pedals are, and the plastic that normally protects my pants from the chains now keeps me from reaching them. It’s all shitty-like, patched up with duct tape, so I couldn’t just get the thing off right then and there. My fate was to walk through this storm, bike in hand.

And so I did. But I didn’t walk, oh no, I needed to keep my body temperature up. So I ran. A liter of water filled my shoes, a liter more had soaked into every piece of clothing I was wearing. I arrived at my friend’s place, and for the first time in forever demanded something of him. A bathrobe, a drier, and a hot cup of tea.

I biked, I ran, and I swam. This counts, right?
~ Fang


  • 22/08/2016 (4:07 AM)

    This simultaneously outlines why I can’t bring myself to use biking as transportation and why I can’t bring myself to participate in triathlons.

    And like Nas, I think this would be harder than a real triathlon. Mother Nature is a much crueler opponent than a man-made race course.

  • 21/08/2016 (11:49 PM)

    It probably counts as more because with a triathlon, you know approximately what lies ahead of you. With this situation, it could have gotten worse, so your adrenaline was probably really going.

    This is why I don’t go outside.

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