Bike Commuting in VA

After two weeks of spousal deliberation, Mark and I decided that I will forgo potential nursing employment for sake of a full time Portuguese language course. It wasn't an easy decision to make considering future car purchases/registration/shipping fees. And preschool. And student loans. And phone bills. And food. Just good ol' life getting in the way of my dream of slathering sunscreen on a meat-and-rum-slinging Brazilian beach boy. It's okay though, I always have enjoyed public transportation and bicycling out here. In fact, I sometimes feel hard core. When other parents get out of their warm toasty cars, wearing fancy pea coats and fur trimmed gloves, I pedal into the school parking lot with my windbreaker pants, butt-frilled neon jacket, and lobster gloves. Oh, and my giant bank robbery balaclava, wool beanie and helmet. I AM fashion. And fashion is danger. People literally turn their heads to see this lithe babe trucking down Arlington Boulevard at 15 MPH:

Wanna tap that? I thought so.

I am as graceful as they say...

As if my commuting attire wasn't bad enough, I managed to take embarrassing to a whole new level the other day. Parents watched on as I walked out of school with Margo and Deets by my side. While lecturing Deets to not eat the Magic Wizard Rock Salt off the ground, Margo took this opportunity to gleefully sprint into the parking lot.  Though she was in no immediate danger, I had a childhood flashback of running into traffic at the King Soopers parking lot. It resulted in considerable amounts of well deserved guilt-ridden reprimanding. I grabbed her and turned my attention back to Deets who had picked up a 7 foot PVC pole. He was pretending to fish for octopi (that's right he uses the proper plural) but lost control and smacked the pole into a classroom window, startling everyone inside. I waved an apology and got the heck out of there with a now loudly protesting daughter strapped into the trailer.

One of the many amusing toys at school.
Deets also enjoys gravel clod ice cubes and broken tree branches.

Loudly protesting daughter

The good news about riding bike with a trailer is I generally can listen to the babble of my children, or totally ignore them especially if they are whining about being confined. I almost made it home when the most horrific noise begin to follow me. The kids began to match the noise, screaming at me to make it stop and the faster I pedaled, the louder it got. I thought maybe I was dragging discarded antlers or picked up someone's broken muffler! Looking over my shoulder I realized the flag holder on the back of the trailer wore through and my safety flag was dragging along the road.

"Only 500 feet to our apartment," I yelled to the kids, determined to get us home. An SUV pulled up beside me, rubbernecking something fierce. He slowed down just enough to stack up honking cars behind him before he decided I wasn't worth the time and stepped on the gas sending exhaust into my face. Rounding the corner to turn left into our parking lot, another car made a wide turn around me with the driver shouting over the scraping, screaming and honking: "You broke your flag pole! Your flag stick is dragging! Hey! IT'S THE STICK!"

She even threw her arm out the window pointing to my rear end situation as if I was totally unaware...then she tried to drive around me in the turn lane, the crazy blow bag. What nerve. I had the right of way dagnabit and was already in front of her. I tried to yell this at her, but I doubt she heard me behind my scuba suit. So instead she was forced to hit the brakes and merge back into the proper lane to avoid hitting the curb. Or me and the kids. <insert deep sigh>. But we made it home without incident.

Note to self: buy duck tape to fix safety-flag-pole-holder. And possibly consider getting a bull horn.