1. I was on my way to work when it happened.
Normally I don't work on Sunday afternoons, but my boss had told me that she planned to come into the lab that day, and as long as I had nothing better to do she could really use my help. As it happened, I
did have other plans for that day, but after n00b stood me up those plans suddenly changed, and I found myself with indeed nothing better to do, and hence I tried to go to work. The rest is history. Every night I think, "Tomorrow I will do it!" And every morning I look at my bike, and it's the wrong color, and my shoulder starts to ache, and then I spend an hour or two trying not to have flashbacks. It's pretty overwhelming.
2. The costs outweigh the benefits.
At the moment, I can barely afford to feed myself. Another wreck at this point would immediately bankrupt me and/or directly lead to suicide. (I am not exaggerating about either of those things.) In addition, as long as my brand new $1300 bike that I can't afford but bought anyway is locked up safe at home, it can't be stolen (as long as my apartment isn't broken into again, anyway---I'm not exaggerating about that, either; this year has been nothing but shit), and that way I'm still out only one Cross-Check that I can't afford instead of
two Cross-Checks that I can't afford.
3. My job sucks.
I'm a well-trained
monkey liberal arts major working for peanuts in a lab at a hospital that's a mile away from the college neighborhood where, for some reason, I still live. It's just not worth riding my bike there. Being a bicycle commuter at the University of Chicago Press was a point of pride; being a bicycle commuter to a post-college drudge job at the University of Chicago Medical Center even though you're 30 and should have a real career by now (as well as a house, husband, and maybe a kid or two, or at least a dog) is just depressing. Riding the bus is for losers, and that's exactly what I am.