Most times, I set out on a bike ride just to escape – be one
with my thoughts – not really expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen
at all. A few evenings ago, I had
exactly one of those kind of times – just me and my bike heading down FM-2920.
FM-2920 between Spring and Tomball has four lanes of fairly
fast traffic – but it also has some very wide shoulders and, for the moment, it
has some nice long stretches between traffic signals. Typically the shoulders
are free of debris. So, except for the occasional motorized vehicle that
invades my comfort zone while it makes a last-second right turn directly in
front of me, it’s not a bad escape route out of the north part of the big city
– and a good area to run across other like-minded cyclists quite often.
But back to a few evenings ago… I was heading west and just approaching the
north end of Hooks Airport when I caught a glimpse in my rear view mirror of a
rider, still far behind me, seemingly approaching with a great amount of speed.
I glanced down to check my own speed – 17 miles per hour. Maybe I’ll just kick it up a notch.
I wound my way through the detoured lanes of the
construction where the new toll road will cross – the newest section of our
Grand Parkway – hitting the light green, I was able to keep my speed right at
eighteen. Once through all of that and a few hundred yards beyond, I glanced in
my mirror – the traffic light had brought my pursuer to a temporary halt. Standing up on my
pedals, I picked it on up to twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Let’s see if he
can catch me now.
I hit the slight downhill of FM-2920 and coasted a bit with
my computer showing my speed right at twenty-four. Took a quick check in my
mirror. Sure enough – he’s still back there – and rapidly gaining on me. I
looked in my mirror again – taking a few seconds to try and focus on the
approaching rider. Although I couldn't really make out much detail, he seemed to be a pretty big guy. Now, I wasn’t on a real steep
downhill but his size would still give him an advantage and he was already
zeroing in on me with considerable speed. I put everything I had into my pedals
and by the time the road leveled out I was steady at 30 mile per hour. Another
look in my mirror. Back at the road in front of me. Back to the mirror. The
road. The mirror. Each time the rider behind me was appearing closer and
bigger. And I really mean BIGGER!
The traffic lights were being kind to me – each one green as
I made my way down the road. I had only slowed to 27 but I had accepted the
fact that this guy was going to catch me. Another glance to the mirror—what?
Wait a minute. Although the reflection was dark and still not very clear, it was obvious that it was too big to be just one big
guy chasing me. It kinda looked like maybe it was two big guys – on a tandem. No wonder they were approaching
me with the force of a locomotive! With just a couple of miles to go before I would
make the right turn on FM-2978, I relaxed a bit and slowed to 25 – which was
waaaaay faster than I even needed to ride but I didn’t want to appear too
wimpish when these guys blew past me and left me in their dust.
With a steady pace, I reached down to grab my water bottle.
Took about four long drinks – silently cursing myself when I realized that I
had ridden eleven miles already without a single drink of water. I usually try
to drink every five miles. I put the water bottle back in the downtube cage. I
could sense the tandem riders right on my tail. Returning my hand to the
handlebars I shifted my gaze back to my rear view mirror. Nothing. And by
nothing, I mean nothing – completely
black! I was riding into the sun so it shouldn’t have been black in my rear view
mirror. I turned my head slightly to the left, looking back over my shoulder. I
could just barely see the front wheel of the tandem. I could hear the heavy
breathing of the riders. My body could actually sense their approach. Strangely
enough though, it felt more like the sensation of an approaching
eighteen-wheeler – not two big guys on a tandem. Not knowing how else to
explain it, as every hair on both of my arms started standing on end, I was
getting the distinct feeling that something was very, very wrong on the shoulder of
FM-2920 that evening. I didn’t even have
to glance in my mirror. I could feel that there was nothing in it
but blackness.
Three maybe four seconds later (which actually seemed more like days),
the tandem was pulling up beside me. But really, it was more like a massive
darkness completely enveloping me. Usually at this point, I’m ready to turn and greet my
fellow rider(s) with a cheery, “How ya
doin’?” or something similarly Texan. But on that day and at that
particular moment, my body was so petrified with fear I couldn’t get anything to move except
my legs on those pedals. All at once I heard a bellowing voice split the tense
silence with, “On your left.”
It was at that exact moment I was snapped back into the
familiar, friendly world of cycling and I turned my head to the left and said,
“Thanks. How ya d—." Instantly my mouth froze in a wide open position and my
eyes popped so far out of my head that they knocked my sunglasses off. The
hairs on my arms, that for a split second had started to once again relax, completely
bailed on me and fell to the roadside. All at once I had found myself within
arm’s reach of the biggest – hairiest – blackest – hairiest (oh, I already said
hairiest, didn’t I?) – baddest looking spider I had ever seen in my life.
I kid you not.
This spider was huge. Its body was perched across both
seats of the tandem – its four legs on the pedals just a-pedaling like crazy – two
legs on the back handlebars and two legs on the front handlebars. The top of
this spider’s head was towering over me – at least ten feet above the surface of the road. And there we were – side-by-side – cruising down the shoulder of
FM-2920 at 25-or-so miles per hour - me and the overgrown hairy spider on a tandem. For
a moment I was at a loss for words so I just decided to carry on with the
sentence I had already started.
“So – how ya doin'?”
“Not bad,” replied the spider. “It’s an awesome day for a
ride.” He flashed a huge spider smile and then said, “Catch you later.” He then pedaled
on down the road and turned right at FM-2978. I slowed to seventeen.
********* ********* *********
You know – most times, I set out on a bike ride just to
escape – be one with my thoughts – not really expecting anything out of the
ordinary to happen at all. Sometimes I
just ride and find myself wondering. Wondering things like what it really means when a gigantic spider on a
tandem says to you, “Catch you later.”
Enjoy the ride!