Last night saw the completion of my Mosh BMX rebuild. With a quick trip to CARS Bike Shop, I acquired the tires, tubes, and re-threaded crank arm I needed to put this little beast back together. Unfortunately, it’s not really a snow bike, so I didn’t get to take the typical test ride. Until after I fell asleep, that is.

It was a warm evening, and I was blasting down 14th towards campus. I cut left across oncoming traffic, up a grass berm, and slalomed down onto a busy sidewalk. Resting briefly, I assured myself that my actions were okay, because I was on a BMX bike, and the drivers/pedestrians wouldn’t recognize me. 

Even in this dream, however, I used “me” in the collective sense. I am always aware as I ride of the perception I leave with those I encounter. I know well that msot drivers can’t tell the difference between me and the next cyclist they see; I’m judged on all actions each driver has seen by any cyclist, and my actions reflect on the character of the next cyclist seen. Because of this, I try to set a good example by being visible, riding predictably, and, when safe to do so, following traffic laws.

On a BMX bike, I was a different person, a different genre. Not a cyclist, but a punk kid acting rash, reckless, rebelious. I imagined drivers irked by my actions would take it out on the next hoodie-wearing teenager they met. I also imagined I had mad skillz on my Mosh and could grind, jib, and freestyle like a pro. What can I say? It was a dream, and my imagination went a bit wild.

Back to reality, I did take the bike for a loop inside the office today, and showed off my inability to even bunny hop or track stand the thing. Interestingly, the bike grabbed the attention of several co-workers that hardly lift an eyebrow when I roll past my commuter bike. The BMX genre, as I’d imagined, is a different crowd than cyclists like me. I hope the imaginary drivers from last night’s dream don’t take out too much aggression on them!