Surly Anton Oh-No!

Leaving the Lucky Strike bowling alley downtown around 9:00 last night, the “storm” that arrived just in time to turn the rush hour commute into a wet mess had more or less run its course. The blanket of clouds unveiled a few dark holes revealing the faint trace of dim stars. What a lovely evening it turned out to be. Heading home Kate asked if I thought the heavily soaked roads would dry or at least remain wet by morning…the appropriate answer at that point should have been “No way in hell.” But I coolly replied that I thought they’d likely dry if the clouds parted and drier air moved in overnight. I am no meteorologist.

After walking the dog this morning Kate returned and pronounced after “nearly falling twice while crossing 20th,” that she would be taking her bike on the bus with her to work today. I contemplated my options but succumbed to my far-sighted mannishness and hopped on the bike. I can say that I have jumped out of a plane, led multi-pitch climbing routes with both traditional and free techniques, flown on a Russian airline and slept under a bridge in Texas in the winter. I have done many crazy and seemingly stupid things. Yet I cannot recall a time in recent memory where I’ve had more “Oh Shit” moments than on the ride in to work today. I wish I could have effectively captured the conditions of the road with my crap Sanyo camera phone, but the radiating glare of mirrored black ice only translated into hazy white splotches with every picture taken. I’d need some serious equipment and actual photographic abilities to truly do photographic justice to the god awful state of this morning's roads.

While I made my way through the neighborhood, I managed to keep to the shoulders where the snow accumulated at least enough to provide some sense of traction. On 20th the crusty ice in the bike lane crackled, snapped and popped like Rice Krispies or Pop Rocks. If you want a test of your bike handling skills very quickly get your bike out to Lakewood, Colorado before the temp rises and head down 20th to Carr. I could have brushed my teeth and combed my hair while looking at my reflection on Carr St. The entire stretch from 20th to 14th, my typical snow day detour, was a full curb to curb sheet of ice. The handful of drivers that slowly inched past me gladly returned my look of terror and panic because no one was going to have traction on that crap (the zig zag of previous vehicle tracks assured us of that). I actually think Kim Yu-Na passed me on Carr near the Volkswagen dealer…she didn’t give me 3ft either #@!%&. Cars spun their wheels in a futile effort to purchase hold of the asphalt while trying to cross Colfax. Turning onto 14th I fish tailed but managed to catch myself without putting my foot down; I only unclipped a half dozen or so times but never had to step down…doing so likely wouldn’t have helped much as my shoes had less traction than my tires. I scientifically tested this theory every time I stopped at a light. With every pedal stroke I shifted my weight to find balance and prayed that I wouldn't eat shit. I had a close call with some tracks on 14th. I ran out of shoulder and barely made it into the lane of traffic by Sheridan. I both cursed and prayed to every god and deity imaginable before I finally made it to drier land; I even busted out some chants from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom just to be safe....Kali-Ma owes me big time.

Leaving Lakewood and heading into Denver the conditions improved with each block towards the city center. By the time I neared Federal I felt much more relaxed. I was no longer tasting bile and my heart rate had edged back considerably (back to Zone 2 where Cat 3 Captain Jordan "I don't bowl" says I should be). I knew I’d make it at this point...maybe Kali-Ma likes me afterall. Perhaps next time I’ll be a bit more judicious in my decisions to ride in to work on ice. On the other hand as I’ve repeatedly proven in the past, what hasn’t killed me actually makes for a really great story. It also serves to increase the thickness of my skull such that, when the opportunity arises and being the dimwitted fool that I inevitably am, I’ll eagerly do it again, and again, and again...good times.