She calls out, “Is there a flasher on your bicycle?” (Huh?) I slow, but don’t stop, respond “No,” and rapidly turn left and up the hill at max speed.
I don’t think she was asking if you had a blinking light on your bike.
I’m still not sure what she was after . . . but good sense prevailed over curiosity. I didn’t need to know.
Another weird experience that probably loses something in translation . . .
We were riding on a familiar road on Christmas Eve a few years back. It was a cold, rainy day. Up ahead, I see a guy pulled to the side of the road. He’s on a 26" mountain bike and he’s wearing a tattered orange jump suit under a tattered brown winter coat. He’s got a big pack on his back. He has a very long, unkempt, graying beard and long, unkempt, graying hair under a floppy brown western hat. He looks exactly like the “bear man” in the 2010 movie version of “True Grit.” He flags us down to stop us – his mannerisms portray a great deal of urgency – as if there is grave danger ahead.
Once we stop, this guy’s mannerisms are exactly like the “bear man” in True Grit. Even his voice – the tone, the halting cadence, the accent – it’s as if the “bear man” has copped a mountain bike and come out for a ride. (If you don’t know the “bear man” character, find him on YouTube. “Is anyone in need of medical attention?”) At any rate, he warns us of a very large loose dog up ahead. (We know the dog.) He explains that the dog is extremely dangerous and that we should carefully reconsider our route. He points to a tattered leg of his jumpsuit and notes that “the animal I speak of is the dog that just did this to my clothing.” He then says that, “If I encounter the dog again, I will strike him upside the head with this here machete!” whereupon he draws the machete up over his head out of its holster strapped to his back.
We assure him that we are prepared to meet the dog and defend ourselves, if necessary. (In this part of rural Tennessee, most cyclists ride armed, in case of mad dogs or rednecks.) Suitably assured, the “bear man” allows us to pass. As we ride away, before we say another word, we turn to each other simultaneously and say to each other, in our best “bear man” voices, “Is anyone in need of medical attention?” Hilarious.
We named the Strava segment on that stretch in his honor. It’s “Bear Man’s Trail.”
The tattered orange jump suit didn’t scream something like “escape prison convict” or anything? and you go talk to the guy with the machette and crazy beard who was on the lamb but you wont go help a half naked girl? haha
