It's some pretty slippery asphalt out there!
So I'm crunching some numbers on my bike (homeschooled!), since the repulsive stench of sautéed shrimp (Poseidon's kid) coming through my window from the anonymous neighbors' house had me on the verge of dietary omission. After a hardcore, high-speed, cardio-active, bipedal workout of 90 minutes, even the superfluous Logan had a parched throat.
So there's this hill on Drake. Not very steep (16 or 17 mph coasting), but SUPER long, running down the whole half-mile road. Even normally it's a great stretch to coast down to rest, but it's pure GOLD to a heart racing at 95 bpm – UNTIL you hit the right-of-way T-intersection at the bottom.
Quite contrary to my terrible luck, something interesting actually happened for once *yahoo!*: I just reached the end, slowing responsibly to 6 mph, when that classic, long, yellow, 3-4 p.m. legal-road-hog-bus pulls a wiiiiiiiiide curve across my path onto Drake. Now I'm glaring fireballs at these jeering-in-face public schoolers, while the bus driver is drugged into a trance somewhere far away from planet earth, completely oblivious to me.
Bus going too slow. Bike going too fast. Puddle is preparing a welcoming interview.
Natural course of action? Drop the bike into a deep slide, effectively preventing a kiss with a bus fender and conveniently splashing a few liters of mud-murk in the faces of a busload of stunned public schoolers (also in awe of my super-amazingness >D).
As far as I know, the bus driver never saw a thing, but now a solid strip of exactly one third of my clothing was soaked, and my left hand and shoulder were imbedded with dispersed bits of gravel and other assorted ground-strewn substances (best not described '~'). That's okay with me. How exciting!!!
But wait! Now I had to get home (1.5 miles) ASAP, since my left side was kinda off-balance with the weighty water and all....
So – natural course of action is to take Courtney and turn at 34th (okay, the natural course is Harvey and King, but I can take 34th in half the time). Now apparently, the bus found a shorter route (cuz I'm way faster than it), since it lumbered into view yet again as I was nearing the Milwaukie water tower park a few minutes later.
Now THIS time, the driver probably-most-definitely-did-very-much see me, as I was barreling toward him and his abomination of a vehicle at 22.7 mph (I checked my speedometer), with a wild grin, and if you add my chaotic hairstyle and the lazy eye most likely lolling toward a nearby dog/fire hydrant scenario, I probably looked like a rabid iguana with anxiety issues.
It was the perfection of cause and effect – his expression flared from deer-in-the-headlights-stunned to blazing-road-raged-madman in the three seconds it took me to close the distance. Well, if I couldn't catch his eye before, why not try again?
There's no yellow lines on 34th, but no worries, friends, I was well out of danger. So at the last second before he passed me and I'd lose him again, I pulled another sharp turn – right off a jump at a driveway entrance – and slid into the park with, if I do say so myself, the grace only a truly gifted biker can achieve.
I'm pretty sure the bus driver mouthed some comments I probably shouldn't mention here, although he could have just been screaming at me to be a more careful insane teenage ninja guy in a hoodie.
Just for you fellow innocents and law-respecting dignitaries, this story was phrased for maximum humorous effect, and I am NOT a crazy teenage guy (just a genius teenage guy), and that was NOT a suicidal insanity stunt (just a wicked cool stunt). I was not harmed in the interpretation of this story.