That Bike Girl

I rode my bike to work again this morning. I was better prepared this time ... had taken in a change of clothes, curling iron and travel blow dryer yesterday so I didn't have to carry all that in my backpack. It was warmer outside, so the ride itself was more pleasant. I sailed in the parking lot and zipped up elevator and hit the showers.

This afternoon, I grabbed my backpack and changed back into my biking clothes in a restroom. I went back into my office to shut down my computer and lock up. On my way by a conference room, a coworker who had seen me arrive in the morning called out, "Hey! I forgot to tell you something."

I backed up.

"The ladies I rode the elevator with this morning were talking about you," she said. "They were all sorts of mad. They said, 'That bike girl should use her hand signals. I almost clipped her as she cut across the road in all that traffic.' You really pissed them off."

I got all sorts of defensive. A) There was no traffic on my way in. At all. I spend a good deal of my time looking over my shoulder  and there just wasn't anyone to cut off or dart in front of. B) At the "big intersection" near work, I wasn't turning. I was going straight. So there are no hand signals for that. C) I'm forever complaining about how rude drivers are, so I think I am a really good biker in that I'm very careful to do what is right and be a good "share-er of the road" in return.

I bid her adieu and spent the first part of my ride home sputtering. How dare they say I did something wrong? They probably think I should be riding on the sidewalk. What do they know? If I ever see them, I'm going to give them a piece of my mind!

And then it hit me.

I wasn't really mad.

They called me "That Bike Girl."

Not, "That old lady." Not "That fat girl." Not "That chick trying to ride a bike."

That Bike Girl.

I'll take it.