I Rock!

Why do I rock, you might ask...well, because the lady in the minivan said so. It's just that simple.

On Saturday morning I was on my way to work. Nothing special, just pedaling along, minding my own business, trying not to get too bogged down in the bad weather. I'd been pedaling for about an hour and only had about 10 minutes to go...but, I was starting to feel the pain a little. It was cold, the roads were slick, the wind was up...you know...winter in Michigan.

So, why bother explaining the mundane? Because, as I was crossing Breton on 32nd St. heading East a mini-van pulled up next to me. The roads were pretty ugly, and it was early on Saturday morning. So, I hadn't seen much traffic yet. I thought this van would pass me quickly, and then I wouldn't see it again. However, after a couple of seconds I realized that the van had matched my speed and was driving next to me.

My reaction? Uh oh!! Yep, that little moment of trepidation that accompanies the anxiety of having a 4000 lb machine under the control of someone who may wish you harm. In all likelihood I would get honked at or sworn at. If this person was really upset at my decision to ride a bike, they might even fling something out the window at me (I've had a couple pop bottles and some trash flung in my direction). Worst case scenario, this person might decide to test their driving skills by checking to see how close they can drive next to me without hitting me.

So I hunkered down, braced myself for what was to come, and tried to concentrate on keeping the bike upright on the slippery roads. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the window roll down. "Here it comes..." I thought. Trash or trash mouth. Either way, this will probably be unpleasant. I kep my eyes on the road ahead of me, determined not to dignify their act by reacting to it.

"You rock!" Shouted the driver out the now open window. I looked over...in shock...with what must have seemed like a profoundly stupid look on my face. There she was. A middle-aged woman with a huge smile on her face, giving me the thumbs-up signal and shouting that "I rock".

I was stunned. Flabergasted. Astonished. Perplexed. And, I'm imagining that the look on my face reflected my inner confusion pretty acurately. I just stared at this wonderful woman, this saint in a mini-van, this pilar of American citizenship, this sentinal of joy and encouragement, as if she had just hopped out of a space ship and ate my mailbox. I said nothing. I did nothing. Transfixed by the moment, I watched her give up on me, roll up her window, and gently accelerate away from me.

It wasn't until she was half a mile ahead of me that it finally dawned on me that some act of gratitude would be appropriate. So, I made a futile attempt to wave goodbye...long after I would have been lost in the snow and wind and would no longer be visible in her rearview mirror.

How disheartening. I should have screamed "thank you" to her. I should have found a way to hug her! Her small act of kindness made the rest of my ride seem fun, easy, and something to look forward to...and, she probably thinks I didn't care.

So, this is my plea to the lady in the mini-van...THANK YOU. Don't mind that stupid look on my face...I swear to you I appreciate your compliment. Not only didn't I mind you riding next to me for a moment, but I should have done more to encourage your compliments with other cyclists. I assure you, we may have a dumbfounded look on our faces...but, that isn't your fault. Please, stay positive and keeping telling us that we rock!