That one time I rode a bike.

On my solo trip to Europe in 2004, I ended up in Bruges, Belgium for a few days.  I don't remember why I went there, but it's a lovely town.  Cobblestone, ass-jarring cobblestone, and canals and waffles.  I booked a ticket to "ween" for a few days later, and settled in to enjoy some beers and frites.  After about 2 days, I was bored.  I must have been extremely bored, because I decided that renting a bicycle was a good idea.  I hadn't ridden a bike in years, and as of now, this experiment was the last time my butt was on a bike.

The rental place gave me a hand drawn map of the area.  Took my bike outside...and pushed it.  All the way to the edge of town.  I don't remember if I even tried to ride it in town.  Bruges is pretty small, so it didn't take long, though my leg was raked to hell from brushing the peddle.  I got to the edge of town and there was huge bridge and lots of traffic, but also a huge bike lane.  So I managed myself over it while actually atop the two wheeled death machine.

So I have this "map".  I'm supposed to be going to Dama.  That was probably the shortest trip.  Just after the bridge was a turn onto a quaint road.  It was paved, but old.  And then, it was just me and the cows.  Fields and cows.  And I rode.  And then my legs started hurting and I was sure that I would be left for dead out here and the cows would turn carnivorous and eat me.  I didn't turn around though.  Because I'm an idiot I suppose.

This "map" was fairly useless.  I got to a "town" (are you tired of the air quotes yet?) which was essentially a crossroads.  There were maybe 3 buildings with a few businesses, but I'm pretty sure none were open.  Because I was lost and spoke enough French to ask for directions had they been open.  I picked a direction and continued riding. 

Magically, I came upon Dama.  A slightly larger town than the crossroads.  A huge church and a smattering of restaurants, etc.  I was exhausted, and god knows I love an afternoon nap.  So I rode in the church graveyard and had a little nap among the tombstones.  Either no one noticed or no one cared.

Post nap I wandered over the creek and then into the bar for a Kriek.  De-lish.  Let me make this clear, I only had one.  And those things are like 4% alcohol, so I was not even tipsy.

Get back to the bike path to ride home on the main road.  Get on bike.  Immediately fall into a bush.  And then I'm covered in something.  Except I can't see it.  There is nothing on my skin, but it feels like a thousand ants are biting me.  So I decided my skin had just spontaneously been infiltrated by tiny bugs.  But standing there isn't going to make them go away, so I get back on the bike.

Five minutes later I see a cyclist (spandex and everything) coming towards me on the bike path.  There is plenty of room for both of us.  But that doesn't concern me and I take him out anyway.  Yep, totally wiped him out.  Somehow, I managed to stay on my bike and proceeded to continue riding as if nothing happened. What the hell is wrong with me?

When I got back to town, even after these two disasters, I was comfortable enough to ride on the streets.  I was not, however, strong enough to ride with my butt off the seat.  And so the ass jarring cobblestones made the last bit of the trip the most miserable.