Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Bush War

Summer seems to infuse the need to be overactive in my bones. This week was full of riding until I was full of sweat. Horseback riding lessons. And conversations about the Moshiach . It went a little like this:
Inspired man: Rabbi Menachem Mendel is the Moshiach.
Ginrod: Oh yeah? How's that?
Inspired man: He performed miracles, he showed me the light.
Ginrod: He's dead no?
Inspired man: Yes, but he's not. He's around, ya know? His spirit.
Ginrod: really? they say that about Jesus too.
Inspired man: It's all about keeping the Mitzvah's, getting yourself on that higher spiritual plane.
Ginrod: That's cool. I'll worry about keeping the Mitzvah's then, and worry about who the Moshiach is when the time is appropriate.
Inspired man: Yeah, I really need to start keeping Shabbat.
My outspoken cursing has reached a new level. Motorists here in Israel tend to inch up on green light ,pedestrian crosswalks. Today, a couple scooters, ignoring my presence, blocked me as I tried to cross into the park. I pleasantly flat handedly smacked a scooterist's helmet case on the back of his bike to scare him into following the large painted columns on the ground.
Sandstorms have hit again, making the sun glow neon-like colors before it sets. I rode myself home along the narrow sidewalks that are even more narrow due to cars parking on the curb. To avoid a run in with a rear view mirror, I steered myself closer to the tall bushes lining the walk. Some bushes are full of leaves- natures little vertical pillars of natural pillow loveliness for a biker. Some have harsh branches, wrapped into knots to trap whatever is stuck in. This particular bush wanted to eat my handlebars and stopped my bike right then and there. I happened to be riding at my same speed as my body tripped to the side and over the handlebars.
I sat there, for a second, completely dumbfounded. Then glanced around so see if there were any witnesses. Then I laid back on the concrete and let out a big BIG- curse word.
Then I must have snorted out a breath of steamy air like the horse I rode the night before.
I rode all the way home cursing and fearful of what this fall would do to my already existent ACL injury. Fortunately, I only have a light V shaped bruise and a stressed out thigh.
I am returning to the guilty Bush tomorrow and will beat it with a dull stick.


Post a Comment