Oh, how the mighty have fallen (metaphorically speaking) after falling (literally).
Des Moines got a little rain, a little snow, a little sleet, a little freezing rain, a lot of wind, and a lot of cold yesterday. Result? My street looks like the surface of the moon... piles of slushy crud reshaped and refrozen into one of the most bike-hostile landscapes imaginable. So for the first time in a couple years, I'm reading a bus schedule, trying to figure out how to get to and from work tomorrow without a bike.
Call me a wuss, but when I think of a) how gentle my femur-breaking fall was, and b) how many times I fell that gently (or came close) last winter, I get a massive case of the willies. Rebuild me once, shame on the slippery surface. Rebuild me twice, shame on me. Until I get a trike, it's "no slick stuff" for this bionic man.
Any locals who are riding this week, please keep your taunts gentle, and I'll see you in April. And watch this space for an irony alert when I slip and fall on my arse while walking to the bus stop.