Miss Ellen Nearly Cooked by Natural Gas-Burner

In Which Miss Ellen & Co. Are Treated as Objects
It's spring, so naturally the bicycle wear must change to the lighter and less cover-some clothing . I wore a smart retro mini dress with bike short underneath to gad about with Miss Ellen this afternoon. Destination: park. Apparently she has been good for my ankles. A lot of trucks lingered in our vicinity, calling "Hey!" out the window. That was unexpected.

Under such circumstances, Miss Ellen and I do not object to being treated as a piece of scenery.
On the way back, we were treated as equals, which is far more dangerous.

In Which Miss Ellen & Co. Are Challenged
All we wanted to do was pass a stopped bus with a crowd around it. I had no traffic, so I swerved out of the Right Lane in order to pass. I even signalled, the ancient Arm Signals that nobody seems to use any more.

The bus driver did not like this. The bus left its crowd behind and buzzed almost straight into Miss Ellen's back wheel. I was clearly visible in his window. I was also moving rapidly left, watching the looming bus, the left lane, behind, and front. Probably my head was swiveling as much as my legs.

"See how you need me," Miss Ellen was saying. "You couldn't move this fast without me!"
"Not now," I ordered. "We are cooked goose with spokes."

The bus was running on natural gas: Miss Ellen, on natural fright. The bus made a sloppy right turn and I got out of the way of six cabs and two SUV's just as fast as I could safely do it.  I hope he was happy, that bus driving son of a gun. Miss Ellen will be. She is getting a horn this week. I am getting some knucks. Of course the beep-beep and the knucks will be beside the point if it is a bus.

We are going out again tomorrow. We are too cool to be fazed by admiration or challenge. Ellen is disgusted currently though, since I have had to inform her that despite the law, she is not a true equal to anybody on the road.