Prepper

Chapter Nine

Rain.

Not so bad if you are a tree, or a frog, or a tree frog. Not so good if you are a cyclist, and in my case, a reluctant cyclist. Ari and I agreed that part my cardio regimen should be cycling, and by that I mean, I whined so much about jogging that he finally relented and agreed to let me ride a bike. But face it, joggers always look miserable, out there, punishing themselves, those healthy, grimacing masochists with their feather light shoes and cardio monitoring wrist watches. I envy their dogged determination. It's a piteous envy.

I took the easy way out, or so I thought, before discovering this thing called wind and realizing this damn city actually has changes in elevation. Curses. So far, there is no perfect riding weather; the wind sucks, the cold sucks, the heat sucks, people in cars hate you and then there is the rain.

Ari says I need more stamina - hence the cardio work. Although Krav Maga, he says, is designed to end conflict quickly and decisively, you never know when you might get caught in a battle of attrition. If you gas, he says, you're done. At which point he usually squeezes his fist in front of my face and makes a squishing sound. I get that a lot from him.

On the up side, riding kind of eases my mind; the peace, quiet and solitude of the open road. Many thoughts come and go on a good ride - good just meaning, I haven't fallen off the bike or been chased by angry dogs. Both of which happens far too often, sometimes simultaneously; Border Collies are frickin' fast!

I zig-zag throughout the city, different routes on different days, taking stock of things. Sometimes I'm just reorganzing my personal demons, according to size, importance or alphabetical order. Often I'm thinking about ways to improve things for Kate and Heath. Other times, I scrutinize the details of this struggling city, which is feeling the financial crunch just like all the others, and it shows. I take note of stores that have closed (seems to be more every time I ride through), the state of infrastructure (crumbling) and I search for signs that things are better or worse (never better). I also keep an eye out for church dinners and other such charity events, especially if they are within walking or biking distance of the house. Never turn down a free meal.

The rain stops when I'm nearly halfway through my circuit. I'm drenched and moody and my knees ache. The clouds start breaking up and the Sun starts streaming through the gaps. The mercury soars almost instantly and the humidity is off the charts. Indian Summer is the old term, now it's just climate change. The word uncomfortable just doesn't do it justice. It's like a sauna.  A sauna and wet Lycra, oh the humanity!

I have noticed that what began as a small impromptu weekly bazaar in one of the city parks has become a burgeoning open air market. This is what Viv was talking about. I walk my bike through the crowd, dozens of merchants with tables and booths are selling and trading. The barter system seems to be returning in earnest, nobody seems to want cash. Hard currency is readily accepted -- precious metals, jewelry, gemstones - but you can also do well if you have something to trade.

I jam my whip into the bike corral and quickly lock it up. Scores upon scores of bikes are lined up, anything pedal-powered is the new, preferred mode of transport. Many people haul little trailers with their bikes, I could use one myself. Jake can weld (of course), I should see if he can put something together for me.

At one of the booths, I run into a girl I knew in high school. I guess she's a woman now. Attractive and fit, I can see once again why I had a crush on her decades ago. Her family has an orchard outside the city, she offers me an apple free of charge. Never turn down free food. We catch up a bit before I head off through the market. I see plenty of items worth considering, but I have nothing to use for payment and no way to carry the stuff home, so I just browse and make small talk with the vendors.