On your left!

So I decided to take Pink Lightning for a "long" ride. By long, I mean 10 miles. Yeah, it's not that long, especially compared to the 112 miles that I'm aiming for (eventually) but baby steps are very important here. Being ridiculously afraid of riding where there is traffic, I decided my first long-ish ride would take place at a local park that offers over 5 miles of paved paths. A lot of people ride their bikes there - well, a lot of little kids ride their bikes there while their parents walk beside them. 

Now, I've run on enough bike paths to know that a cyclist is supposed to yell "On your left!" when passing a walker or a runner. I'm pretty shy, and I knew I would feel awkward yelling out to someone when I was behind them. At first, that wasn't a problem because the paths weren't too crowded, and most people were walking far to one side, anyway.

I did have to call "On your left!" a few times, but luckily it wasn't as awkward as I had thought it would be. There was the old couple that couldn't seem to figure out right from left, forcing me to ride on the grass for a few feet, but that all worked out.

But toward the end, I did make the mistake of taking a path that had a small, wooden foot bridge in one section. I feel it's important to note that the bridge is not scenic in any way. It does not go over a river or anything like that; it is so unremarkable that I don't even remember what's underneath it. As I came upon the bridge, I was a little bit nervous, because it was narrow, and I was still wobbly on Pink Lightning. I could see a family of four (at least I assume it was a family) standing on one side of the bridge, looking over the edge and just chatting. At least one of the teenagers looked up and saw me, and by that point, I was riding almost as slowly as I could, to give the family time to move across the bridge.

The kid who saw me coming motioned to his family and they all looked my way. Relieved, I kept right on pedaling. But instead of walking on, all four of them tried to smoosh up against the railing. I only had a few seconds to react. Let me reiterate how small the bridge was. It was maybe wide enough to let two people stand side by side. It did NOT seem big enough to let a person on a bike pedal by four people.

I belatedly, and fruitfully, called out "On your left!" as I started onto the bridge. I really don't know why I bothered, considering that they definitely knew I was coming, but it just seemed like the right protocol. It didn't prompt any reaction from the family. I was terrified that I was going to swerve the tiniest bit and impale one of them on a handlebar. 

I came thisclose to hitting what I assume was the father of the bunch, and so I panicked and swerved to, the left. My front tire was about to smash into the side of the bridge, so I reached out and grabbed the railing with my hand to prevent contact between Pink Lightning's precious parts and the bridge. Unfortunately, contact between my hand and the rough wooden railing, while traveling over 5 miles per hour, did not result in anything pleasant. 

Once I got to the other end of the bridge and back on to the pavement, I was so distracted by the MILLIONS of splinters in my hand that I lost my balance and started to fall over, to the left. I tried to catch myself and make it look like I was just hopping off voluntarily, but that failed when I hit my crotch on the bar. Poor Pink Lightning hit the ground while I tripped and scuffled my way off of her to keep from face-planting.

The family on the bridge? They started laughing. Now, I can see how someone standing behind me would find humor in the scene. However, this little predicament was entirely their fault. For all I know, they plant themselves on that bridge every weekend and get their kicks out of sabotaging unsuspecting bikers. I haven't been back to find out. After I made sure Pink Lightning wasn't damaged, aside from a few small scratches (that in my opinion, give her character and make her look a little bad-@ss), I walked her around the bend to where the family couldn't see me before getting back on and riding to my car.

Next time I see that family of punks though, I am not going to give them the courtesy of calling "On your left!" If they happen to be in my way, too bad for them. I'm just going to keep on riding straight. A little taste of their own medicine might not hurt.     

I used to be afraid of riding in traffic, but now I know there's another hazard out there: Human traffic at a standstill.