Sidelines

For the past year, the powers-that-be have been digging up Cook Street.   

I don't have a problem with that, being a pedestrian who is all in favour of infrastructure. 

However, even pedestrians are affected by the noise -- and the number of cyclists on the sidewalk. 

From my seat by the dividing wall on the coffee shop patio early one lovely, if noisy morning, I watch as a tandem bike bearing a father and his young school-bound daughter whizzes by, way too fast for sidewalk-sharing.

From the other direction, a fully helmeted woman cycles up the sidewalk at a rather impolitic speed. She stops suddenly at the front steps of the coffee house, and, straddling her bike,  expertly fires a rolled up newspaper through the open door.

I congratulate her, and she tells me that she had two flat tires this morning, which is why she's late.  (I'm late, too; it's bed linen day.) She says she made the discovery in the early morning dark of the "bike room".  Fortunately, she's a dab hand at tire-changing.

She spreads her arms.  "But I get to ride in this! It's all good!"

And she takes off.  

On the sidewalk.