DC City Tours: For the Hardcore

0800 on a Sunday morning, approximately 40 hours before the present time (this being the first time I've had enough energy to write about it since the escapade) I am chilling at the southend of the ellispe along with three other unnamed unhinged males. We check everything. Air. Brakes. Gears. Helmets. It seems, only the first is essential for enough of us. We roll out, two street bikes, two mountain bikes. The pack stays pretty tight through the first stretch down to the World War II memorial and up to the Lincoln Memorial. We loosen up at the route continues. We effectively coursed enough of DC and Virginia to overlap 80% or more of my previous 10 day tour in 8th grade. I flew by cars, humans, and other unmentioned objects/creatures that tried to come between our tires and the pavement. As it turns out the pack would breakup due to speed, endurance, and man's greater evil, the assumed order over chaos by constructing traffic lights. As it turns out, day walker's don't bother looking at the little red hand indicating imminent death, they instead process the speed of the approaching vehicles and make a mad dash across the pointless painted crosswalks. Go figure, biker's do it too. Miss calculations, lack of visiblity, or possibly blindness/deaf can raise the stakes this game of frogger. I find myself and one of the members a block and a half behind the group looking at the menacing red hand at 12 o' clock, a DC cop at 9 and a 5-way stop in the terrain that lay ahead. I'm ready to go for it, as I see a ped ignoring the fist of fire, but better judgment tells me the double standard probably won't do me any favors with this cop. The light changes, we cross, only to wait for the next one 90 degrees away. It's clear, the cops passed, and I roll out. One lane, two lanes, three--CAR! I jam both brakes simulateously into my shattered wrists. The wheels stop, but the bike doesn't. My back tire flies into the air above my head as I nearly lose not only my seat, but other attachments as the car races closer and closer to my floating body. Focus! FOCUS! I had tried a unicycle a couple times, but never really was able to balance. One tire frictioned to the hot asphalt, two hands glued to the brakes and handlebar, legs stopped mid-stride with converse covered feet pressed hard against clipless pedals. Everything stops. Except this bird, swooping by without a care in the world. The car squeals by, stopping way too late. My feet slide off in a flurry, getting my grip with earth back. I find my seat and pedal on A beautiful day for the 1.5 hour tour that lasted 4. A stop at the bagelry proved a worthy brunch.