Disposable Heroes of Bicycle Commuting

It’s 1°C, sleeting, windy, and there’s 20 km to ride to work. Awesome. Let’s go.

About 20 minutes into the ride, Metallica’s Disposable Heroes crept into my mind for no apparent reason.

Maybe, it was some part of my subconscious realizing I was getting cold, wet, and sore and would need something to push me along. It’s also a fast pace to set as a target tempo for pedaling. As I rode along, I started to rewrite the lyrics in my head.

“Cars fill the roads I see, hungry heroes end
No one to play driver now, no one to pretend
Running blind through bike paths, bred to pass them all
Victims of what said should be
A servant `till I fall

Commuter boy, made of clay
Now an empty shell
Twenty one, only son
But he served us well
Bred to win, not to care
Do just as we say
Finished here, greetings death
He’s yours to take away

Back to the bike
You will do what I say, when I say
Back to the bike
You will ride when I say, you must ride
Back to the bike
You coward
You servant
You blindman

Barking of taxi honking , does nothing to me now
Sounding of the clock that ticks, get used to it somehow
More a man, more scrapes you bare, glory seeker trends
Pedestrians fill the paths I see
The obstacle never ends

Commuter boy, made of clay
Now an empty shell
Twenty one, only son
But he served us well
Bred to win, not to care
Do just as we say
Finished here, greetings death
He’s yours to take away

Back to the bike
You will do what I say, when I say
Back to the bike
You will ride when I say, you must ride
Back to the bike
You coward
You servant
You blindman

Why, am I riding?
Ride, have no fear
Soreness, live off pain
Hell, hell is here

Why, am I riding?
Ride, have no fear
Soreness, live off pain
Hell, hell is here

I was born for riding

Life planned out before my birth, nothing could I say
Had no chance to see myself, moulded day by day
Looking back I realize, nothing have I done
Left to die with only friend
Alone I clench my bike

Commuter boy, made of clay
Now an empty shell
Twenty one, only son
But he served us well
Bred to win, not to care
Do just as we say
Finished here, greetings death
He’s yours to take away

Back to the bike
You will do what I say, when I say
Back to the bike
You will ride when I say, you must ride
Back to the bike
You coward
You servant
You blindman

Back to the bike
Back to the bike
Back to the bike
Back to the bike
Back to the bike”

I finished the commute in just over an hour. Avoided two collisions with pedestrians walking on the bike path, and watched a fellow biker bolt through a red light and narrowly miss getting hit by a school bus.

This sounds really negative, but it isn’t. It’s a blast to ride. What happens in my mind to keep me going when I would rather get back in bed or just drive is what this post reflects.

It was a great ride in the end and I felt great for doing it.

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