Suburbia: Where Tragedy and Hope Meet

I almost died the other day. This happened while I was on my way to work. You see, I've decided to give up the car indefinitely. I ride a bicycle to work every day. Therefore, my daily commute requires me to fill up with calories instead of gas (which is still expensive as the price of food has risen nearly in tandem with gas). But it is still brilliantly cheap to commute under my own power. No gas. No car insurance. No maintenance. No $40 stickers. The only downfall, it seems, is the near constant threat of being run down by enormous automobiles.

It is another beautiful summer here in the western suburbs of Chicago. The forecast for the next week is uniformly in the high 70's F with occasional clouds drifting through without a care for time or reason. These benign clouds watch the world drift beneath them and perhaps observe all the curiosities taking place down below. In fact, a few days ago one of these delicate drifters may have watched in amusement as a young man on a bicycle was nearly squashed into the road surface by the hostile and psychopathic actions of an overweight man in a small black corvette.

Statistically, bicycling is no more dangerous than driving in a car. But here in the suburbs people avoid walking, running and bicycling like they do reasonably efficient vehicles; people are not used to negotiating the same space with bicyclists or pedestrians. So when I cross a street with the authority of Illinois traffic laws as well as the insurance of making eye contact with my would-be murderer, I come within inches of my own doom. 

The crux of the issue, however, was certainly the thing this disgruntled man said to me as he hit the brakes and then the accelerator (simultaneously rounding the corner with haste and emptying half his gas tank). He yelled, "Jackass!" My emotions were already in a strange way due to the personal reflection that immediately followed my near death experience, so I had but naught to reply. 

I sat at the next corner puzzled not by the actions and words of the man, but instead by the curious fact that this man had had his window down instead of using his air conditioning. "There is hope, yet!" I thought out loud. "Feel the warm air and listen to the wind in the trees. The next step is to free yourself of your steel cage!"

There was no need to be embarrassed for making my thoughts audible because I was the only one on the sidewalk for the duration of my commute home.