You ever watch someone pull their bike out the front door, strap on that goofy helmet, take a deep motivational breath? and immediately inhale a lungful of fresh dog shit?

Yeah.

Neighbour?s dog dropped a landmine right beside the driveway.

Ride?s already fucked and you haven?t even mounted the thing yet.

But off you go anyway.

Pedaling.

Feeling good.

Climbing hills.

Telling yourself you?re basically Lance Armstrong without the drugs or talent.

You look back at that hill you just climbed thinking yeah baby, I earned this.

Completely ignoring the fact you smell like a gym sock that?s been buried in a swamp.

You?re feeling powerful.

Muscles firing.

Speed pumping through your veins.

You reach for that water bottle like a professional athlete.

Take a big glorious gulp.

Close your eyes for half a second to savor it.

That?s when your bike drifts into the other lane.

HOOOOOONK.

Black Ford truck.

Window down.

?WATCH WHERE YOU?RE GOIN,G YOU FUCKIN IDIOT.?

You instantly dump a load in your spandex and start trying to jam the water bottle back into its stupid little holder while steering with panic alone.

Turns out multitasking at 30 km an hour is not your strong suit.

You calm yourself down.

Tell yourself it wasn?t your fault.

Cycling takes time.

Weeks.

Months.

This is a learning process.

That?s when a dog explodes out of a bush.

Pissed off. Barking. Full murder mode.

You shit yourself again.

You pedal like hell but your feet slip off the pedals like they?re greased with bacon fat.

The dog is right there.

Teeth snapping at your calves.

At this moment the dog is the size of a fuckin elephant.

In reality, it?s about the size of a Taco Bell mascot.

You?re kicking.

Pedaling.

Screaming internally.

Completely unaware you?re back in the other lane.

HOOOOOONK.

Same black Ford truck.

?WATCH WHERE YOU?RE GOING YOU FUCKIN IDIOT.?

You swerve away from the dog and straight into the ditch.

Down you go.

Up into a barbed wire fence.

Ever notice barbed wire can slice you into three hundred pieces even if you barely touch it?

You land in a farmer?s field.

Face down.

In cow shit.

From the road you hear it again.

?WATCH WHERE YOU?RE GOING YOU FUCKIN IDIOT.?

You also hear paws pounding the pavement.

That growl.

The kind that says you?re about to die over cardio.

You leap up.

Grab the bike.

Take off running somehow.

Dog defeated.

You flip him the finger while riding away because for some reason humans think dogs understand that.

Now you?re edgy.

Bleeding.

Covered in cow shit.

Smelling like a crime scene.

But you stick with it.

You want that great body.

The one women supposedly love.

This doesn?t come from sitting on the couch thinking about exercising.

You hit the last hill.

Crest it.

It?s all downhill now.

Speed builds.

Wind in your hair.

Smile returns.

Oh yeah.

This is the feeling.

Then you see a squirrel.

You reach for the brake.

There is no brake.

It got ripped off in the fence incident.

Instead of holding on, your brain tells you to put your feet down.

This removes ankle bones, teeth and dignity.

You wake up on someone?s lawn.

Sprinkler system blasting you like you?re being baptized against your will.

You wonder if you?re alive.

Then the bike falls out of a tree and smashes you in the face, finishing off the rest of your teeth.

You pick the bike up and throw it about five hundred feet up the road.

Adrenaline is amazing.

Then you remember you have to go get it.

You limp back uphill and discover the bike is completely fucked.

Bent.

Twisted.

Destroyed.

Only thing still perfect?

The fuckin water bottle.

You boot it as hard as you can.

It goes straight through the window of the nicest house on the block.

Standing there, toothless, bleeding, shit in your spandex, smelling like cow shit, you consider running.

You cannot run.

So you crawl away.

Fuck the bike.

I?m driving my black Ford truck from now on.

I?ll stick with the body I got.

????????????...and that's callin' it like it is!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Canadian artist & digital troublemaker Colin John Cook shares his louder-than-life, awkward, and honest-as-hell stories. Packed with humour, real talk & creative insights in a no filter, digital comedy space that laughs at life & calls it like it is. He is also the Founder and President of

The Hidden Gallery - Art Studio & Micro Theatre

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