Braking away

Last week, I kid you not, I was afraid to ride my bike to class. I felt like a freaking 3-year-old. Seriously, an 18-year-old guy who is legally allowed to be in control of a motorized vehicle should not be losing sleep over two wheels connected by a piece of metal.\nAnd yet, my dusty, green Trek mountain bike was the object of much anxiety.\nI brought the bike to school because everyone said it would save me time.\nAnd why shouldn't it? I had visions of racing past those ordinary pedestrians as I left for class remarkably late and arriving with time to spare.\nI even watched "Breaking Away" this summer, so I was super pumped about all the sorority girls I would get while coasting down the street. I figured it was only a matter of time before I was making a beautiful girl swoon. Biking shirts and odd caps have that effect on women, I hear.\nI had it all planned out. I would walk to class for the first week in order to get comfortable with the campus and then I'd turn into the Lance Armstrong of Bloomington.\nAnd then reality hit. Literally.\nI was walking down the street one day on the way to class when a bike smacked into me. The driver didn't flip off his bike or anything serious, and I had no real injuries to speak of. But it was a close call and it hurt like hell.\nAt that point, I became acutely aware of those crazy cyclists. They jumped curbs, rode down stairs and dodged in and out of speeding cars. Suddenly, my biking skills were in serious question.\nAt that point, I realized that I haven't even ridden a bike since my sophomore year of high school. And what about my backpack? A sudden shift of contents (think overhead compartments in airplanes) could send me careening into a crowd of innocent bystanders at any time. This was simply not a responsibility I was ready for.\nSo I put off my biking for a few days until what appeared to be an opportune moment showed itself. I had to go to the Indiana Daily Student one evening at 5 p.m., and I figured it would be a relatively quiet time to get back on the horse, as they say.\nI was wrong. In fact, 5 o'clock is fairly hectic. Suddenly, a vision flashed before my eyes (no, I'm not on drugs). I was flying down the street with no control of my bike or brakes. Before I knew what was going on, I crashed into the back of this huge guy. As if that wasn't bad enough, he picked himself up and beat the tar out of me.\nMeanwhile, back in the real world, I'm sure I looked really cool straddling my bike at the top of Fee Lane facing 10th Street -- a small tremble and a terrified gaze over my face.\nAfter a couple seconds, thank goodness, I realized what a spaz I was being.\nI mean, It's only a damn bike. I took off toward the newsroom and arrived unscathed. I even darted between two cars for good measure (they were parked, but it still felt really cool).\nMy bike has yet to attract any sorority girls, but I'm still hopeful. I even bought a cool helmet (which, I understand, is a bit of an oxymoron.) Maybe, just to solidify my coolness, I'll get a little bell, too. We'll see.