“What are you gonna do?” (Comments: 2)

It’s obnoxiously hot in Rochester this week. It’s been at least 90 degrees for several days. Today it hit 94 degrees with 46% humidity. Gruesome. I rode my bike about 15 miles today, despite the weather and despite the nearly overwhelming urge to steer it into an oncoming truck as the heat started to get to me. The highlight — or more accurately lowlight — of the day was riding to meet my good friend Otto at Fox’s Deli for lunch. Otto was not the problem. Neither was Fox’s, a great Jewish deli with all your favorites, including a kreplach soup that’s to die for. To prove that point, I almost died for it.

See, the thing about Fox’s is that it’s in the strip-mall hell that is Winton Rd south of Brighton-Henrietta Townline Rd. And the problem with that is that to get there, you have to cross over a hill that I’m sure would be rated hors categorie in the Tour de France. And the even worse part is that the road leading up to this mountain is flat for a mile or more, so you can see this hill coming and really have time to convince yourself that stopping at the Hummer dealership just past the deli is a good idea.

I’d ridden about 8 miles by the time I got to the hill. That’s not very far, but with the heat it felt more like 80 miles. Right before the hill is a traffic light, which turned red just as I got there, meaning I got to climb the hill from a dead stop. I shifted into a nice, low gear and started up. By the top, I was swearing as loudly as my collapsing lungs would allow, and wondering just how it would look to be found dead in front of a strip mall, curse on my lips and water bottle clenched in my sun-baked fist.

But all ups lead to downs, and the other side of the hill was a 25-mile-per-hour rocket into the parking lot, where the very nice folks at Fox’s let me bring my bike inside so it wouldn’t get stolen. One of the servers even made a joke about using it as their new delivery vehicle. And nothing tastes as good as a cold glass of water and a good lunch after you’ve had one of those stare-into-the-abyss-and-your-quads-stare-back-at-you climbs.

Which is apropo of another story, as long as “appropo” means “completely unrelated to.” The other day (which is blogspeak for “several weeks ago, but I want to make it sound recent so it seems like I’m livin’ the life”) I was riding to work down Field St, a two-way, no-lane-marking kind of street in my neighborhood. A car behind me beeped, and when it was able to pass, the driver yelled “Get on the sidewalk!” Seconds later they were stopped at the light and I pedaled up beside the car. The driver’s window was open, and I said to her: “You know, it’s actually illegal for me to ride on the sidewalk. I’m supposed to act like any other vehicle.”

Her response was rational and considered: “What are you gonna do?”

Me: “Nothing. I’m just saying that I’m supposed to be in the road. It’s the law.”

Ms. Manners: “I know the law. What are you gonna do?”

Me: “I’m not trying to argue with you, I’m just saying that–”

Mother Theresa: “What are you gonna do?”

And then the light changed, and just as quickly as she had come into my life, she was gone. Mind you, this was an adult woman with what looked to be her mother sitting next to her, knitting. Moral: Knitting is evil! No, wait, that’s a typo. I meant: Everyone is evil! Oh, forget it. Make up your own moral. I’m going to go take a cold shower.