Tag Archives: feminist

Day 24: Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel – Screaming in the Wind

There I was, coiled up like a compressed spring, crouched down over the tank trying to hide behind my windshield which was vibrating a little more wildly than I liked. I was headed directly into the wind mostly. If I were sailing, my course would be a tight close haul, heading just slightly northwest into heavy winds directly out if the north. In a sail boat, this would feel like screaming across the water.

I actually WAS screaming across the water.

No, seriously, you can hear that banshee in my helmet screaming her head off in this video.

I was 14 miles and 19 minutes into crossing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. I was somewhere around 75-feet above the Atlantic Ocean riding into 45 mile per hour head winds. Head winds created by air being sucked into the backside of Hurricane Maria from its north and west as she headed out to sea. I was literally screaming – out loud, vocal, trembling, fierce screams- across the water (on a bridge).

I was screaming at the frothy waves below and all around while simultaneously trying to ignore them. If I were to acknowledge them, look at them and hear them their siren song would beckon me to join them in their bone crushing and motorcycle crushing churn. In the interest of the all important video documentation for occasions like this, I did dare to look (edited so you can actually see those waves within the grey in gray on grey day).

Earlier in the morning, I contemplated heading around the Bay for a 4+ hour detour toward DC. I wanted to catch the ferry to Cape May which the detour would eliminate. I wanted to avoid DC traffic which the detour would make me face. However, I also didn’t want to get blown off a bridge and into the Atlantic.

I signed up for Twitter notifications from the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel (@FollowtheGulls if you are curious). At a Level 1 winds of 40mph, they restrict campers, RVs, vehicles towing trailers and vehicles with external racks for luggage, bicycles and such. At Level 2 of 47mph, they add a few other things to that list including motorcycles. The previous afternoon they hit Level 1 and stronger winds were this morning.

When a couple at the BnB was asking if it was safe to ride a motorcycle across the bridge today, the ex-marine, tough guy stepped in to add “Yeah, I’ve ridden across the bridge in good weather and bad weather. It wasn’t this windy and I have a much bigger and more powerful bike. It sucks in bad weather.” Thanks, tough guy, that didn’t help. Had I not already been anxious, I probably would have called his comment what is was – a tough guy flexing his manliness for an audience. Perhaps he realized he unnerved me when he softened his tone and offered a “don’t worry, you’ll be fine” at me as I was loading up.

At 9:24am, one mile from the bridge toll booth, Twitter sent me an alert. “The CBBT is currently operating under Level 1 wind restrictions. Winds are in excess of 40 mph.”

I did not want to go to DC. I did not want to skip the ferry. I did not want to bail out of this amazing opportunity to cross the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. So, with a sigh and my stubborn determination – I sent my husband a message, “They are at Level 1, I am going anyway. Gimme 45 minutes before you panic.” And off I went. Weeee.

I can’t say I like long open crossing on bridges in the first place. I’ve caught myself leaning away from the void when traveling down the Florida Keys or over Bay Area Bridges or when on a mount pass with a shear drop. There is something about the pull of gravity and the abyss that unsettles me. I don’t really call it a phobia. Nor is it some stray morbid suicidal thought, so don’t worry. But there’s a tiny hot spot in my brain that realizes a tiny “oops”, a muscle spasm, a momentary disconnect from reality, a crazed twitch and poof, gravity and the abyss win. Is it just me? Really?

Anyway, I knew I wasn’t going to like this in good weather.

So, at 19 minutes into the crossing, I found myself coiled up like a spring, white knuckling the grips, fighting not only the wind, but also that crazed and facinating draw of gravity and the abyss off the edge of the bridge. So, drowning out the wind, I screamed. I screamed a crazy, fierce and ugly into my helmet and rode on.

The wind didn’t win. Gravity and the abyss didn’t win. This day, I won. It took me 25 minutes to cross. Yeah, I might have sounded like I nearly lost my mind 19 minutes and 14 miles into the crossing, but I didn’t.

Wow, that was a lot of drama. It really was pretty terrifying. No embellishment, I was scared. After nearly 4000 miles alone on two wheels, this was some freaky shit.

At the other end, I relished in a little parking lot celebration. As I passed cars trying to lock down loose loads and find the shuttle van that will take their bicycles and roof racks across, they watched, confused as a crazy woman rolled into the lot hooting and clapping. I am okay with the embarassment.

Amazingly, Day 24 had only just begun. I’d only covered on 25miles of the planned nearly 300mile so far. Many other things happened on Day 24, so, I think it might get two or even three posts.

How’s that for drawing out the ending?

Happy cooking and screaming at your demons.

Banish The Pixie Dream Girl

I was going to write a post seeking riding buddies and new friends on the road, but then I got sidetracked by a recent episode of the podcast Modern Love.

At first blush ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl‘ seemed like it was going to be a cheesy love story, but you know, that’s not really Modern Love style. There must be some insight. There is always a lesson.

As the narrator talked about his love of the genre of manic pixie dream girl romance. He told a story of how he once found his very own manic pixie dream girl. Describing the exciting but damaged personality that makes up the manic pixie dream girl, I wondered if I envisioned myself as a manic pixie dream girl too.

No, I don’t envision myself as a Natalie Portman from Garden State. I lack the physique and eating discipline to actually be pixie-like (note: photo is nothing like Natalie Portman) But that old trope of the fun, interesting, quirky and intriguing girl who is also emotionally and mentally damaged from whatever ghosts haunt her and she needs fixing by a stable, strong, infinitely patient protagonist. The storyline goes that the stable protagonist finds himself a manic pixie dream girl. She, through her wild antics, she draws him out of his shell and introduces him to an exotic new world of new experiences and, of course, sex.

They fall in love. But the heroine can’t escape her mental defects. The sexy intrigue becomes unbearably eccentric. The wild excitement turns into fear-inducing volatility. The fun quirkiness becomes mental instability. The sass becomes mean.

We worry about what she will do to him. Or what she will do to the relationship. And we are certain she will ultimately hurt herself. Naturally, love overcomes all and our strong and stable protagonist is able to fix her; thus saving her from herself.

My favorite of this genre is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It doesn’t follow this exact formula and our manic pixie dream girl, Clementine, is less hapless and cutesy pixie and more self-assured and decisive woman. I hesitate to add manic, because that would imply she actually has a mental health disorder that the audience thinks she needs fixing. She doesn’t need fixing.

As I declared myself an atheist at age twelve, I am not so into the idea of fate nor star-crossed lovers nor soulmates nor one true loves. So, it’s odd that I love this movie so much. It relies entirely on fate – our two soulmates, despite erasing each other from their minds, they find each other again because they are destined to be together.

The movie abruptly ends after they find out they erased each other from their respective brains. They learn about their previously volitile relationship that ended in heartbreak.

Roll credits.

We are left to believe Joel and Clementine are fated to be together. Armed with the knowledge of how their relationship failed, perhaps they avoid all the mistakes of the past and live happily ever after.

Or maybe they are the same people, the same personalities and the same relationship they were the first time. Perhaps, they are destined to just repeat the same heartbreak again and again and again. Groundhogs Day.

Okay, that was a fun recap of my favorite movie. So, why, you might ask, would I envision myself some sort of manic pixie dream girl? I don’t want to, really. In fact, it’s not even specifically the manic pixie dream girl that is the problem.

She is just the embodiment of that tired old mentality that most of those smart, intriguing and fun girls we love are flawed. They need to be fixed. The “I like all these things about you and you would be perfect if you could just fix all these things about you.” Your amazing, but totally screwed up. I’ll take all the good stuff, but let me help you identify and eliminate all this shit that stinks and offends me. Your great, but broken.

Here is the problem. We are all flawed. No, not flawed. We are all different. With the good weirdness comes the bad strangeness. With the exciting and exotic comes the scary and different. With the wild and fun come the unpredictable and volatile. It is all matter of degrees and increments, compromises and acceptance. It is not flaws in need of fixes.

I fell for the romantic construct of the manic pixie dream girl. We all do at some point, don’t we? We envision ourselves as some gauzy, doe-eyed creature who is wonderfully and tragically imperfect. We are broken and we need someone to fix us and save us from ourselves. And it’s not just any anyone – it is only the fated one.

No doubt, I can be improved. But let’s banish the manic pixie dream girl and all her incarnations. The concept of her is broken. I am not.

Happy cooking and dreaming!