Last year, after more than ten years of not having a bike (if you don't count the one I had but never rode which was stolen from my storage unit a few years ago), I bought a bike--a gorgeous dark purple bike I christened Huckleberry. I love my bike--I may not ride him as often as I should(yes, I decided my bike was male) but I love him. He gets me from the gym in Solna back to my apartment in Vasastan in less than 15 minutes. We tool along Nörr Mälarstrand together from time to time. I even ride him to work when the weather is nice.

The only problem is that I am not a confident bicyclist. I know all the traffic rules, etc but I don't trust the other people on the road. It takes all of my courage not to get too frightened when I am biking and the bicycle lane ends. I usually keep my cool but inside I am nervous when on the road. Other bicyclists probably think I bike too slowly for their tastes--I don't care. I pace myself based on the rest of the traffic around me and on if I have to be somewhere in a hurry. Sometimes a bike ride is just for pleasure.

Yesterday I was riding my bike along Olof Palmes Gata when I saw a lorry closing in on me. I was in the far-right lane and figured he had enough space to pass me. Apparently, he didn't agree. He veered into my lane, cutting me off --- next thing I knew I slammed into the curb and nearly flew off Huckleberry. Luckily, I regained my composure and control of my bike fairly quickly. The lorry driver was already speeding away, now back in the left lane. And all I could think as I continued the rest of the way home was, Bastard! BAS-TARD! BASTARD!!! I have to fix the handlebar on my bike now. It's nothing serious. I think I just need to tighten a screw, but it's pretty loose at the moment. I'll fix it tomorrow.