I am SOOOOO thankful he wasn’t successful. For about three seconds, I couldn’t believe what had just happened.
I was riding home on the Norfolk Avenue bike path, smiling and saying good morning to everyone I passed.

Then I passed one man. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lean toward me. Lips pursed. I kept riding. Then it hit me.
“Did he just try to spit on me?” No…surely not. Before I knew it, I was turning around. I pulled up beside him and asked, “Did you just try to spit on me?”

He looked startled. “Who are you?”

“The lady who just rode by who said good morning.”

He seemed agitated, so I asked, “Am I making you nervous?”

“Yes,” he said. “We should be nervous around you assholes.”

That’s when it clicked. He wasn’t reacting to me. He was reacting to my e-bike. I’ve read the Nextdoor posts. I’ve talked to neighbors about kids riding e-bikes. I’ve even been kicked off the boardwalk bike path because of the way some people ride e-bikes.

I get it.

Some people are flying down the paths at 30 miles an hour, popping wheelies, weaving through people, and giving the rest of us a bad name.

But that’s not all of us. I’m 53. I bought my e-bike after I lost my husband. I call it my “Badass Therapy.”
It got me smiling again. Laughing again. Waving at strangers again. I love feeling the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, and music blasting in my ears.

Could I do all of this on a regular bike? Maybe.

But after mold exposure, my energy isn’t always predictable. Some days, my e-bike is the difference between staying home… and getting outside. Between isolating… and talking to people.

So if you see a blonde woman on an e-bike with glasses, a black backpack, and a huge smile…please don’t assume I’m one of “those” riders. I’m probably just out enjoying a little Badass Therapy.