June 28, 2008
Here we are, in Who The Hell Knows Where, Delaware – our last night camping in the great outdoors, which is a really really good thing as I have lost all patience with the bugs that are a constant stinging, biting, and disgusting presence. I went to do laundry in the laundry sink last night and Becky very sternly told me not to come in the room – turns out she was protecting me from a spider as large as my head that was perched in the other sink. Ew.
If I sound less than chipper this morning, it might be because my left arm and leg are devoid of skin following a crash yesterday on our way into Baltimore. Yes, I finally had my first fall, coming down a steep downhill into a left turn where the road was uneven. My bike went to the left, I flew and rolled the other way – but I am largely unhurt, except for this red, angry road burn. I consider myself very lucky and had no trouble getting back on the bike to continue onward. It didn’t hurt all that much at the time – and there was no van to come and pick me up even if I wanted it to.
The clouds that had provided welcome shade toward the end of the ride opened up with crashes of lightening and thunder as we rode into the city limits. It got much harder to keep my feet in the pedals and my contacts in my eyes as we rode through the monsoon. I knew we were insane when we were pedaling uphill and upstream at the same time. We sounded insane as well – calling to each other, screaming out our frustration and fear and then excitement at a sign on a church that read, “Civil Marriage is a Civil Right”. It was freeing and exciting to hear eleven women using their voices, riding through the rain and taking over a whole lane through the middle of Baltimore.
Because of my fall and a flat tire, we rolled into Baltimore, dripping wet, about a half hour before our meeting. Being Wanderlust and therefore awesome, all eleven of us managed to shower and dash off the location without even being late. I’ve lost most of my vanity, forgoing makeup and wearing my hair in a ponytail or a French braid most of the time – huge steps, for those of you who don’t know me. It’s freeing in a way and restricting in another. There are those who feel it’s more feminist to cast off all of the socialized beauty rituals that have been forced upon women for centuries, like wearing makeup and being perfectly coifed, and in some cases I agree. But I also feel so much better and much more powerful when my hair is clean and curly and hitting my shoulders and my clothes are clean and unstained with bike grease. Like so many things on this trip, this deserves more analysis, but I’m too tired and sore to do it now.
The meeting in Baltimore was interesting and in a great space, an old church that has become an activist collective of sorts. I was really too tired to take much part in the meeting, but I am sure the group will reflect over at Wanderlust with Rhonda at some point! Have a great night!