Today was mostly a peaceful ride where I benefitted greatly from my daily cycle-therapy.
Aside from one blue semi....
There was little traffic. Fewer than couple dozen vehicles passed me throughout the day.
I watched the truck approach from behind in my little rearview mirror. There wasn't another vehicle for miles before or after. The road was flat and straight. You could see for miles in every direction. A dashed yellow line emphasized that passing is allowed.
The shoulder was narrow. There were only a few inches between the white line and an abrupt 6-inch asphalt ledge. The ledge was barely visible. Knee-high goat head weed, thistles, and other brush encroached on what shoulder there was.
The rig grew closer. It was moving over...in the wrong direction, crossing the white line and rolling on the shoulder.
It was time to ditch the bike.
Time slowed down as I made swift decisions. I was determined to remain upright as I departed the ledge. I'd need to roll as far away from the road as possible for safety. And to do that I'd need to get my tires as perpendicular to the ledge as possible. I had no idea was was beneath the thick vegetation. It didn't matter. It was safer to fall there.
I made it off the ledge. The thorns anchor into my calves, slowing me down.
The semi growls at me with a sustained blast of the horn that warps with the Doppler effect.
I stop. I'm OK. Even upright.
The semi swerves back into the travel lane and rolls on.
I can only hope the driver was mesmerized and sleepy by the long open road. That my presence (signaled by flags, reflective triangles, neon colors, and a flashing 400-lumen light) startled the operator at the last moment, flooding him with the fear of a near miss. That no person would intentionally use a semi to drive a vulnerable cyclist off the road.
I guess I'll never know.
I worked for a few minutes to disentangle my bicycle and trailer from the brambles, then drug my traveling companion back onto the road surface. I pulled the thorns out of my calves and my tires. And I set out again.
Thankfully, I've learned the benefit of cycle-therapy. The adrenaline rush gave way to the soothing rhythm of the pedals. And I continued in tranquility to a delightful evening in Eads, where I shared dinner with my new cycling friend, Keith.