Icy Dicey

Before I got on my bike to ride to work, I looked at our remote weather sensor and saw that the outside temperature hovered at a reasonable -7 degrees.  The image of the little man on the display of the sensor was bundled up in a coat and a scarf - in the summer he sheds clothing and it has only gotten hot enough for him to strip down to a Speedo and I often wonder if it got any hotter than 30 degrees, if he would appear naked or wearing a thong?

What the weather sensor didn't indicate was the wind blowing from the east that burned my face and began to freeze my gloved and mittened hands.  It took pedaling 33 blocks until I hit a red light and could jam my ice cold hands into my armpits where they could suck the warm from my upper body.  As the light turned green, I wished I knew how to ride without any hands and I looked forward to riding through the neighbourhood of Oliver where I imagined that its tree lined streets would give me relief from the wind.  But Oliver was still 46 blocks away and I was a little dismayed when I turned onto 100 Avenue and freezing rain began to fall on the already slick roads.

The fact that I'd left the house in such a hurry that I hadn't eaten any breakfast was weighing against me as well.  Another disadvantage was that I'd left my "Bar Mitts" in my locker at work and the freezing rain was soaking through my mittens and gloves and turning my hands into rock hard claws that I would need assistance to pry free.

I rode the whole 93 blocks without the freezing rain jamming my brakes and shifters and I took satisfaction in knowing that I had all day at work to warm up. Once my hands were melted enough to remove them from the handlebars, I looked forward to that first cup of black plasma and I might even order up a large oatmeal to make up for all the extra calories I had burned shivering.