More often than not this time of year I find myself driving at the speed of —
The person pedaling in front of me.
Take last night, for instance.
I pull out of the parking lot at Barbette’s in Uptown, intending to take my usual route home on Irving when a yellow fender flies out of the alley in front me.
Yellow fender pumps furiously, but it’s not enough to get me above 15 mph.
Irving — a one-way with cars lining both sides of the street — also has a stop sign every block.
Each time I stop — and look both ways — I realize the parade of cars behind me is getting longer.
I’m feeeeeling anxious now.
Should I try to pass?
Maybe —- no —- ok, perhaps —- no way.
I grip the wheel tighter and notice that a few cars in the line-up have bailed, leaving a snippy little moped nosing my fender.
Sensing his growing impatience at the next stop sign, I’m contemplating a bold move in my head —
When he shoots around me, picks up speed and leaves yellow fender and me in the sunset.
I’m breathing easier now as we approach my favorite house in the 1900 block — which just happens to be —
For sale — and —
The same shade of yellow as the fender I’ve grown extremely fond of during the last 10 minutes or so.
This symmetry in color both delights and calms me.
And I can’t help wondering — am I more than just a little —