Trimet Follies

I think Trimet occasionally goes out of their way to hire people whose interpersonal skills may be a little suspect. I will allow that many, many Trimet folks are great, but there are a few that can turn on the "charm" enough to sour one's view of the organization.

This morning as I hopped on the MAX at Goose Hollow a attitude laced voice came over the PA that went something like this (can't remember the actual words):

Hey cyclists make sure you're not in the way of the doors or aisles. If you are, better get yourself right.

The rude was dripping off her tone. The fact that she actually said this seemed pretty rude to me as well. As a cyclist I know where I am allowed to place my bike, I don't need to be chastised. Yes, I was standing holding my bike where it kind of blocked the aisle as all of the hooks on the train were filled. But considering there were less than 15 folks in my care, half with bikes, I didn't see this to be a problem. Was I in the way for anyone getting on or off? No. Just that the operator said this irked me some. Other than that, the ride was uneventul.

What, may I ask, am I to do? Wait for the next train? On a Sunday morning where the trains run with at least a half-hour in between? I think not. Love to see her wait around at the end of her day...y'know it ain't going to happen.

Sunday Mornings

Some mornings getting on the bike to ride home is a monumental task and sort of a drag. Others it is a wonderful commune between rubber and the road. Sunday was one of those mornings. I usually love leaving Good Sam on weekend mornings. There's no traffic, the normally bustling streets of Northwest Portland are near deserted. In short, it's near perfect. And Sunday was the best for some time.

It was cool, not cold, but cool, with a slight nip to the breeze. Just a touch to remind me that fall was not completely banished and keep me awake all at the same time. The sun was out, low in the sky, casting a great golden light on near everything. Instead of the sigh of desperation a I swung a leg over, I got the chill of anticipation. As I rode, I felt the stress of the last 2 nights of work start to melt away. Gone was the tension in my neck brought on by the constantly ringing phone. Gone were the cramps in my hands from entering order after order. Cleared from my mind was the lingering resentment of the resident physicians who couldn't quite seem to see the forest for the trees. But as the rubber hummed along the pavement those thoughts passed away.

When co-workers ask me how I ride home after the night shift, I always extol the virtues of it in its ability to clear my mind. On more than one occasion I have said the even if I have a completely shit night, by the time I have ridden home, it's gone from my thoughts. It gives me the chance to process as needed. Some mornings are better than other but this Sunday was a jewel. I just sat back and enjoyed the ride. Wish every morning was like that.