Thursday, April 28, 2005

Infuriating Mysteries of the Universe

#1. My karma is doled out in MUNI catchings. I swear nearly every time I'm walking to the MUNI stop, the damn thing rolls by when I'm just far enough away that I can't possibly catch it. Laws of probability say that this should only happen about 50 percent of the time, but it literally happens to me - and I'm not exaggerating - about 95 percent of the time.

There are weeks when I ride MUNI four mornings in a row, and I miss it by ten seconds four mornings in a row. The only logical explanation for such a mathematical improbability is that all the bad karma I churn up as I go along my way in life is finding its way back to me in the form of the MUNI whirring past so calm, so smug and satisfied as I start booking it from half a block away. That rattling when the doors slide open and closed - that's the sound MUNI makes when it laughs.

"Ha! Hahahahaha!" says the N Judah. "Keep running little girl. You look dumb running in those heels. Whoops, gotta go. There's another train right behind." And invariably the next train doesn't come for, like, a freaking hour.

#2. The grade on the hill you're climbing is never as it seems. My friend Don Miguel says, "I call it bullshit." Why is it that sometimes you swear you're pedalling on a flat road, and yet old people are joggercizing past you? White's Hill outside of Fairfax looks flat when you're huffing and puffing your way up; it's only if you look behind you that you can see there's a grade. Other times you swear the road is downhill, but you still have to pedal to maintain your speed. Parts of the Marin Headlands loop are that way. And there's that magic hill going east on Fulton, right after you cross Divisadero. It's far steeper than White's Hill, yet I always fly to the top without breaking a sweat. If someone out there has an explanation for any of this, please share. It's the bane of bikers everywhere.

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