It is 12:45AM. I am leaving the office. I will spare the details of why I was there so late. I have not, in many years, worked so much in a single day (to best of my knowledge, it last came organzing competition at the climbing gym). I was tired, under-fed, and frustrated. I turned down several ride offers, mostly because I did really want to ride, despite the fact that I did not have a forward-facing light for my bike (being summer, the proper commuting light was at home, of little use for the 5:00PM ride home). Truthfully, the lack of light would not put me off. I love riding at night, and lately I’ve had little reason to do so. The weather was perfect, cool ahead of the remains of Tropical Storm Ernesto. It was a bit cloudy, but no matter. Still wonderful.

Off I went, blinky light and reflectors offering a small measure of comfort. The office sits at the base of hill, isolating a bit from the surrounding neighborhood. This, being the suburbs, meant that the hill lacks streetlamps. Once outside the orange cocoon of the parking lot lights, my eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden blackness. For a moment, I could see literally nothing. Then, slowly, the white lane marker can into soft focus. And nothing else. It’s quiet–just the chirp-chirping of crickets and the whir of rubber on the inky black road.

Once at the top of the hill, I am back into residential neighborhoods and the comforting light of the streetlamps. A few cars pass in the other direction, but not a single vehicle overtakes me. On the long, rolling straight of Mount Royal, I settle into the middle of the lane, enjoying the early warning advantage a car’s headlights give me. I have to bypass my usual route through the Pine Creek valley, as that stretch of road has no streetlamps. Instead I head through the business district of Shaler and soon I’m careening down the long hill into Etna. This, too, is poorly lit, so I feel my way, relying on the vague memory of potholes and cracks in the pavement. It works, and I am in Etna, heading toward the 62nd Street Bridge, and my bed.

The bridge is empty. Looking right, downtown blinks in the distance, the white glow of Heinz Field cast over the taller buildings (the Steelers played their final exhibition game). The traffic light at Butler blinks green, and I barely slow as I slide through the empty intersection. I chose the long way around, all the way along to Butler to the far side of Baker, and then it’s up, up, up the hill to my home and my bed.

Posted on 1 September 2006