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Commute

A bus driver, with whose bus I had been playing "Notice me" for about ten blocks on the way in to work this morning, pulled up next to me at a red light, slid open his window, and said, "I just wanted to thank you for riding so safely. I wish everyone on bikes would ride the way you do--it makes my job easier. You signal, you keep up a good pace..."

"I try," I said, astonished. (I'd been expecting an admonition--it happens at that particular intersection sometimes) We chatted for a couple of seconds till the light changed, and I rode on, a little bemused and trying to figure out what I'd done to win his approbation.

True, I signal--especially lane changes. True, I keep up a fairly good pace (this is not something I was able to do at first, but I've gotten faster as I've become stronger and lighter). I'm keenly aware of my surroundings in that area, specifically because there are buses and I'm obliged to take the lane with them. I was wearing a white sweater, so I was pretty visible.

But really? I think it was the hair.

Crossposted from Dreamwidth, where there are comments. | Comment at Dreamwidth.

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