Commuter-friendly? I think not.

Ok, so I don't carry my plastic bottles home from places that don't have recycling bins and I haven't figured out a practical way for me to commute the 30 miles to work yet. But, I have readied my hybrid so that I can take it to pick up the onions I forgot at the grocery store down the street or return the Red Box movie to the local Walgreen's. I thought it was good way to get a few more minutes of exercise in during the week besides my road rides and spin classes, plus it was smart for the environment.

So, today, I wanted to pick up a couple of frozen pizzas for dinner to save the delivery fees. So, after slinging my daughter's old backpack on my back, rubber-banding my right leg of my jeans, I set out to ride the two miles to Safeway. Feeling proud of myself, I make it to the Safeway--a misnomer because the way through's Safeway parking lot was ANYTHING but safe. Filling station traffic was pulling UP the DOWN aisle and because motorists don't expect to see a bicycle, they just dart up and down and in and out without looking. But, because Queen Creek is not exactly the Portland of Maricopa County when it comes to commuters, I forgive them these drivers this.

I make my way to the front of Safeway, looking for a bike rack, a signpost, a railing SOMETHING that I can lock my bike to. There's no bike rack. No railing. Nothing.

After fighting the urge to just walk into the store with my bike, or better yet, just cruise on in ON my bike, I decide to lock it to the line of shopping carts that are not being used. To some unknowing soul, it must have looked like I was trying to steal either the bike or line of carts as I was trying to weave my horseshoe lock through the myriad of spokes and rails whilst maintaining my bike in an upright position. Aaargh!

Finally, I won the wrestling match and headed into the store. I found my pizzas being careful not to choose a brand that would exceed the size of my backpack. After the check-out clerk rang each item, I shoved it into my backpack; Once again, the looks I received brought to mind the expression on a person watching a homeless person groom him or herself in front of a store window or a a teenager in a beat up old car poorly parallel parking in a tight spot.

I offered no explanation to the puzzled clerk, thanked her and made my way out to my bike which, in my absence, must have gotten weary of leaning against the shopping carts and took a tumble onto the sidewalk. Sigh.

It wasn't long though before I was on my way. As I wheeled down the sidewalk toward home, the late day sunshine on my face, I felt satisfied with my little jaunt. Who knows? I may make that commute to work someday afterall!

Next week, I'm going to shop for a basket!