Coming home this morning was, er, interesting. I walked most gingerly to my bike locker as I realised the rain overnight had now frozzed into a slick of ice coating everything - roads, cars, all covered in a carapace of hard black ice. My fingers started to nip in my gloves before I even unlocked the bike. I toyed with phoning Crusty to come and get me, but then I remembered my counsellor Alex saying in his lovely accent, 'Every time you avoid what you fear, you make it worse next time. And every time you face your fear, and overcome it, you make it easier next time." I've ridden home in these conditions a hundred times. Time to do it again.
I walked my bike to the bit of site road that had been driven over sufficient to make an ice-free path in the secondary line, and once I hit the main ish roads things were mostly OK. I was still riding quite slowly though, in places standing water in potholes and puddles was still frozen and with the Saturday morning numpties making close passes I had no choice but to ride over them. I mounted the cycle path in my usual place and realised that was a mistake PDQ, and with pictures of poor Eccentrica Gallumbits in my head I walked my bike back onto the road where at least the surface was rideable, even if the natives are hostile.
Half a mile from home I found myself saying 'This is bad. This is really bad." I was riding on thick black ice. I used the curve in the road to make a line to the grass verge, where I dismounted and walked the rest of the way home. The bike was sliding all over the place on the road and the path. Horribly icy.
I did it though. A point to me, I think. Getting a lift tonight.
