I went out for a ride on the rail trail today. I was solo, because Bill was at Fenway Park for a PMC-related event. If yesterday was a beautiful day for the beach, today was a beautiful day for a ride.
I made my way down the trail. As I rode, I listened to my “Rockin’” playlist on my iPod. As I approached two men riding side-by-side, “Animal Bar” blared in my ears.
I said “Passing on your left.” Some people know how to ride a bike, and some people don’t. I have been known to get frustrated by riders on the trail trail; however, I don’t think I’ve ever been obnoxious when it comes to slowing down for little kids on training wheels or giving side-by-side riders plenty of time to pull off to the right.
As soon as I said, “Passing on your left,” I knew there was going to be a problem. The rider was startled by my words. Judging by his actions, jerking his bike suddenly to the right and getting too close for biking comfort to his friend, I knew he heard, “Get the heck out of my way!” instead of, as I always meant it, “Passing on your left. No need to make a sudden quick move to the right and crash into your partner. Really, there is no hurry. I’m just letting you know that I’d like pass you.”
It was a déjà vu moment, because it was as if what happened in the next two minutes had already played through my mind the minute I said, “Passing on your left.” The rider hit his friend’s rear wheel with his rear wheel; he began to fall. And, so did his friend.
They both crashed into the grassy shoulder. I immediately stopped and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I knew I hadn’t done a thing to cause the accident, but I felt that I should check to make sure they were both okay.
They both got up, and I said, “I’m so sorry” again. The younger rider said, “I’m okay.” The older rider got up and said, “What happened?”
The younger rider said to me, “You got too close.” Of course, I said, “No. I just said I was going to pass you.” They were going very slowly; I was only doing 10 m.p.h. as I followed a bike-length behind them.
The older rider then said quite calmly and authoritatively, “Let’s go over what happened.” I then immediately asked, “You’re an engineer, aren’t you?” He was stunned by my profiler abilities (thank you, Criminal Minds) and said, “Yes. I am.”
I said, “I’m a technical writer. I know these things.” He laughed. He then said, “I’ve been looking for you.”
Of course, I could count on no fingers the number of times a man had said, “I’ve been looking for you” in my lifetime. I asked, “You have?” I told him that I was no longer available, because I had just accepted a job.
I then asked again, “Are you sure you’re all right?” The younger rider said, “I’m fine.” The older rider said, “We’re fine, thanks. Go, and good luck!”
After looking for a job for over a year, I found it ironic that there was job opportunity staring me in the face, albeit a bit shaken up, on the rail trail. I guess I could have said, “I’ll send you my resume,” but I didn’t. The grass was always greener, but sometimes you just had to stay in and run through your own lawn for a bit longer to see what would happen. ♥
End blog soundtrack, because I love this song:
A Blog from Jean on a Saturday Night Note: Before I begin my job on Monday, I'm trying to master the short but entertaining blog post. Did I succeed tonight? Only you know for sure. ♥
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