Crazy Kia

On my birthday, as any perfect September Saturday, the sun danced on quivering red maple leaves, the squirrels anxiously zig-zagged around the park forgetting where to store their huge black walnuts, and I felt the light-hearted temptation to ride my bicycle to State Street.

Due to construction on Park Street, I took the lovely lakeside bike trail.  While pedaling along nice houses on my left and humble boat docks to my right, I noticed seagulls plucking fish from sparkling Lake Mendota.  Students played Frisbee in the park, laughing and shouting praise to each other.  The air giggled with that Saturday friendly community high...until I reached Washington Street.

At Washington and Bedford, a double-chinned wooly woman in a red Kia sedan laid on her horn.  The BLEEEEEEP nearly ran me into the parked cars to my right.  I watched her buzz ahead of me and wondered if that horn blast had anything to do with innocent me, minding my place, like any responsible Madisonian.

The next stoplight, I end up waiting for the green light alongside this Kia woman.  She looked straight ahead with a smirky grin on her cheeky face, gripping her steering wheel as if she were trying to twist the rubber off.  At the turn of the light, she BLEEEEEEP'ed me again, this time with the most disgusting, indignant, smug, joy on her face.  

My mouth dropped, I took a deep breath, and looked over my left shoulder to see if I could safely merge and take the next street.  A car slowed down and merged to the right when they saw me look, so I nodded, smiled, pointed my arm to the left and merged.  That Honda driver nodded and smiled to me, thumbs up.  A bright yellow bumper sticker on his rear read, "Bicycles Have Rights Too."

Knowing my husband rode his bike to work, I stopped by his job to ask for the cable lock. I wanted to stroll State Street for hours, consuming gyros by aroma and watching skaters mingle with yuppies.

 I told Dave my little episode with the crazy Kia lady.  He said, "Next time, slap her car and flip her off!" 

 I asked, "Next time?"  

He nodded his head emphatically with wide eyes.  "Sweetheart, do you have any idea how many times drivers look me straight in the eye and purposefully cut me off, dangerously close mind you, in the designated bike lane?"

The Queen song, "Bicycle" started to grind in my head.  For the first time, those layers and layers of bike bells ringing in the middle of the song sounded like my kind of protest.  I let those bells repeat in my head, sending me into a meditation of sorts, until I saw that damn Kia again.  

I wanted to shout, with all my veins popping out in anger, "GET ON YOUR BIKES AND RIDE!"  Instead I simply sighed and looked forward to trying on hats.