(Apparently, I'm braver than a person whose job involves guns. And angry people.)
But I said, like I usually do, "Well... yeah."
"Brave woman," he said. I laughed it off. "It's actually really nice today," I said. "Nice and cold, pavement's dry, no ice."
"Well, you're braver than me," he said. "Have a good night."
"You too," I said.
"And you're really brave," he said, gesturing to the bike, as the doors closed. I laughed, and said "Thanks, I guess?"
|This here is Brave.|
|This is brave.|
|And this is brave.|
"You learn what different kinds of ice look like and how to ride on them," I say. "And there are shitty drivers all year, everywhere."
Really, I want to say, if the streets were cleared with bikes in mind, and if roads were built with us in mind, and if people didn't assume that you have to be an Avid Cyclist (TM) to ride in anything but perfect summer weather, riding in the winter would be no different than riding in the summer (with the exception of the toque, scarf and mittens, of course).
(And, if I'm being perfectly honest, you miss out on occasionally having total strangers tell you that you're a badass.)