so that’s what it’s like.
rolling my way east on 4th through hancock park (is it country club park at that point? regardless, the far edge of money), spending most of my time thinking about the poorly balanced books on my back, giving a little bit of thought to the rasp of my dry chain, trying not to catch the wrong edge of the pavement on the poorly little street. i look up, see a white BMW coast into the stop sign at westminster right as i start to pick up speed coming east down the hill on 4th.
he’s not going to stop for me, i think, but keep on my way. i’m into the intersection when i realize that he doesn’t see me, isn’t going to see me until it’s too late. swerve wide, kick my right foot out of the pedals, listen to the skid of my back tire, realize he stopped and i’m through.
i brake, turn around and step off the saddle in the middle of the street. it’s pushing 9, the deep shadows of old ficus trees against the weak yellow streetlights. the car’s still stopped in the middle of the street. it honks, gathers itself – clean lines, dark tint – and skips north. i roll to the light at wilton. goddamn light is red again, much like always, and when i step down to the street, i realize i’m still shaking.
so that’s what it’s like.
there’s more to be said, that has been said (ethics, vulnerability, visibility), but that was the ride tonight.
los angeles rides 