A roaring dragon

It was the second spring of the year, or perhaps third. I can’t remember. Where I live the transition from winter to spring doesn’t go smoothly, it is a tug of war and spring has to try multiple times in order to succeed. (sidenote: This was not the last spring of the year. In a feint to tug at our collective hearts, the spring decided to yield to winter one last time. Only days after it was snowing again and temperature dropped down to -8 ℃. I had foolishly put my trust in the weather and biked to school in spring clothing. That was a mistake I will surely make again.¹ ) In any case, a combination of switching to summer time and good weather meant that the sun shined brighter compared to before, the contrast making me feel like I was newly awake. When I think back to the days before it is as if I saw the world through a black veil, and only now had I taken it off. The sky was intensely, almost imposingly blue, and the snow was mostly white without much slush. Pristine early Swedish spring.

I was biking slowly, taking in the sun and the nice environment, listening to the birdsong for the first time in months. It was on a wide car road, but one that the city had tried its hardest to slow down. Around here there are speed bumps in practically every corner, and the particular road I was on had been shut off for cars at the other end. The only cars that were supposed to be here were people transporting their kids to and from the adjacent school. It is a pretty place, and decently quiet due to the absence of cars. I was contemplating how nice and stressfree it is to move around slowly instead of going fast—ebikes, scooters, and cars all seem induce stress to me—when I heard a rumbling behind me. The pace of the world around me wanted to pick up. I tried to resist, but the sky and the building seemed to grow distant. The distraction demanded my attention. I tried to listen to the birds, but their song drowned in the sound of the engine. The car was close behind me now, impatient because pedestrian islands were blocking the other lane. Keeping my pace I tried to continue to enjoy this sunny day, but inevitably the car became my world.

It only had to be behind me around five seconds, but after four the driver’s patience had run out. HONK! Then it rushed ahead for 10 meters where the car road stopped, turned onto a pedestrian only walkway, and drove along it, occupying the entire width.

The rest of the way home, my pulse was noticeably higher than normal. The weather hadn’t changed, but I could no longer enjoy it.