Against the Wind

It was August when I first flew in. Days were decent, often grey, and sometimes rainy. Rust-ridden bicycles filled the streets. When it poured, they sprayed pedestrians with rainbows of runoff. While I’d run, huddled under an umbrella, towards the train station, the locals would forgo all forms of public transit for a pair of wellies and a bike.

Of course, I thought them crazy. Los Angelenos skip work when it rains.

But today, in the sideways winter wind, the sleet, the hail, and the wet wet snow, I rode my little magenta bike out of the center of The Hague to work. (My gloved hands were numb by the time I tried to respond to emails.) And last night it went with me to the gym. And the grocery store. I strapped my purchases behind the seat with a bungee cord.

I am such the hypocrite. And I’ll bet that it was one heck of a lot nicer to ride bikes last August. Hell, it was practically summertime.

It’s unfortunate that it took me a good six months to get used to the idea, but you live, you learn. Humans can be so predictable. Next time, I'll throw all my prejudices out the window.