maybe we made history last night.
At seven thirty pm yesterday, I was sliding pans out of the oven and filling the kitchen with sweet plumes of heat. The sugary air made breathing in our non-air conditioned house somewhat easier and turned me giddy as I quickly slipped chocolate-chip cookies into a heap that steamed the sides of a tupperware bowl.
At seven thirty-five, I was on my bike with the hot cookies warming my back through the bag on my back. Even while quickly pedaling down the Plaza, I could smell the scent of brown sugar and melty milk-chocolate draped around me.
I turned the corner on to Commonwealth and expected to see fifteen or so bikes and friends at the Common Market waiting for Critical Mass to start.
According to two head counts, there were 57+ people assembled to ride.
I stood stiff in astonishment and managed to pass around the cookies, worried that there wouldn't be enough for everyone.
It wasn't feeding the multitude with five loaves or fishes, but miraculously, there were cookies left over.
So many people were there, over twice as many as past Critical Mass rides.
There were more bikes at the Common Market than cars!
We waited as small groups of two and three cyclists continued to roll down Commonwealth and fill the parking lot with bikes.
Everyone was happy and smiling in disbelief at the sight of so many bikes there in one place... assembled not for a fundraiser, or a race, or a corporate sponsored charity ride (all good events), but because we all had a common intrest in going out to ride bikes with one another.
What was even more exciting, was to think about how many people weren't there, that would've ridden with us if they had known, or had more notice, etc.
We were electric with energy and fighting an instinct to head home at the sound of thunder and sight of dense purple clouds dragging from uptown. For long enough to make our presence known, we hung together, a quarter mile or longer stream of bikes snaking down Tryon to Camden. From East Blvd. to Freedom park. Westfield rd. to Brandywine. Up the hill towards Bicycle sport for a pit-stop of snacks, drinks, and visits to the toilet. Ebbing at the edges of Colony rd., the group got restless. With the crash of thunderclaps and lightning tearing through the north-east sky there was an anxious air that hurried us back to our bikes and into the street again.
When the frenzied shouts, cat-calls, yells, and toungue trilling finished, we were back at the Common Market and there was much outdoor socializing around each cluster of bikes woven around trees and poles with locks, cables, tubes, wheels all connected in confusing jumbles.
At eleven pm, I left to ride home alone and still couldn't believe it all.
Yeah, it was a good time.
I'm sure there'll be more reflection on the night in the next few days.
At seven thirty-five, I was on my bike with the hot cookies warming my back through the bag on my back. Even while quickly pedaling down the Plaza, I could smell the scent of brown sugar and melty milk-chocolate draped around me.
I turned the corner on to Commonwealth and expected to see fifteen or so bikes and friends at the Common Market waiting for Critical Mass to start.
According to two head counts, there were 57+ people assembled to ride.
I stood stiff in astonishment and managed to pass around the cookies, worried that there wouldn't be enough for everyone.
It wasn't feeding the multitude with five loaves or fishes, but miraculously, there were cookies left over.
So many people were there, over twice as many as past Critical Mass rides.
There were more bikes at the Common Market than cars!
We waited as small groups of two and three cyclists continued to roll down Commonwealth and fill the parking lot with bikes.
Everyone was happy and smiling in disbelief at the sight of so many bikes there in one place... assembled not for a fundraiser, or a race, or a corporate sponsored charity ride (all good events), but because we all had a common intrest in going out to ride bikes with one another.
What was even more exciting, was to think about how many people weren't there, that would've ridden with us if they had known, or had more notice, etc.
We were electric with energy and fighting an instinct to head home at the sound of thunder and sight of dense purple clouds dragging from uptown. For long enough to make our presence known, we hung together, a quarter mile or longer stream of bikes snaking down Tryon to Camden. From East Blvd. to Freedom park. Westfield rd. to Brandywine. Up the hill towards Bicycle sport for a pit-stop of snacks, drinks, and visits to the toilet. Ebbing at the edges of Colony rd., the group got restless. With the crash of thunderclaps and lightning tearing through the north-east sky there was an anxious air that hurried us back to our bikes and into the street again.
When the frenzied shouts, cat-calls, yells, and toungue trilling finished, we were back at the Common Market and there was much outdoor socializing around each cluster of bikes woven around trees and poles with locks, cables, tubes, wheels all connected in confusing jumbles.
At eleven pm, I left to ride home alone and still couldn't believe it all.
Yeah, it was a good time.
I'm sure there'll be more reflection on the night in the next few days.