I’ve recently acquired a mountain bike for riding around campus. The main reason I was looking into a bike was because I’ve moved into a new house this year, and as a result of not quite knowing travel times to various locations around campus, I have become chronically late. I had thought about getting a bike prior to the semester starting, but I pushed it to the bottom of my to do list in lieu of getting command strips to hang various cliche canvases around my room. Then, one fateful Tuesday or Thursday afternoon, I was running late for my 5pm Physical Chemistry class.

I was fully prepared to speed walk through campus. Keep in mind, my house is at least half a mile any path I take. I was going to be late, but I had come to terms that I would be sweaty when I got there. I was maybe 50 feet from my front porch when I heard someone call my name. “Corrin!” This isn’t all too uncommon, as I am very involved with many things and I tend to make friends easily. I looked across the street to see my friend Hannah riding her bike, waving, and preparing to take on the worst uphill on campus. I stopped, waved, and yelled across the street, “CAN I BORROW YOUR BIKE?!” She rode over to me with an enthusiastic “Yeah! What do you need it for?” (I love this girl). I explained my situation and she lent me her bike with a small caveat: “It doesn’t have any brakes. Well, it has front ones but you can’t press them too hard or else you’ll flip.” “Okay I’ll just use my feet!” I yelled over my shoulder as I rode away to class.

The thing is, Virginia Tech is not known for being particularly flat. We are situated in the New River Valley of the Appalachian Mountains in rural, southwestern Virginia. They do not know flat like I, coastal girl from Virginia Beach, know flat. As it happens on that fateful Tuesday or Thursday evening, I did not take this into account.

So there I was, riding along, I dodged a couple of girls already, getting back in the metaphorical saddle (unless bike seats are called saddles in which case it’s less metaphorical and more literal), going uphill, and then I went in the roundabout. And then I went downhill. During a class change. With a busy crosswalk ahead. I tried tapping the front brake to get the bike to slow down a little. Nope. I couldn’t tap my feet down because I was going way too fast and I was wearing flip flops (I had blisters on the back of my heels that prevented me from wearing any type of closed heel shoes for about 2 weeks). Oh. No. My last resort was to weave my way through the crosswalk, but as anyone who has ridden their bikes downhill as a child knows, the only thing that results from fast turns is scraped knees. So, as anyone else would do, I bellowed at everyone in my way,

“EXCUUUUUUUSE MEEEEEEE! MY BIKE DOESN’T HAVE BRAKES!!! IT ALSO ISN’T MY BIKE!!!!”

People not in the crosswalk stopped, and people in the crosswalk turned, saw the look of sheer terror on my face, and ran to safety.

I didn’t hit anyone, and finally got the bike to slow down with the temperamental front brake. I made it to class with 6 minutes to spare.

These days, I ride a bike that has both front and rear brakes, but my percentage of near run-ins has only increased. Only time will tell if I become chronically on time, but so far, I’ve only been early.