A cigarette butt came flying out of the car window. Trailing embers, it bounced in the air stream, then flew straight back and bounced off my helmet and fell into my lap. Good thing I wear gloves when riding the bike; I brushed the still burning cigarette off my lap. Sparks burned holes in my T-shirt and pants, but not my skin.
Turns out, cars don’t come with ashtrays anymore–those things that pull out are plastic, not metal, and are meant for coins.
But cigarette butts are the least of what I see–and sometimes wear–when people throw them out of car windows. I learned with my first motorcycle that washable clothing is a must when you are riding.
Coffee, with and without cream or sugar, even from Starbucks, come flying out of passenger and drivers’ windows. So do Big Gulps, Slushees, ice cream cones. Food at 45 miles an hour is surprisingly hard. PB&Js leave a bruise at that speed. And that’s just the food. There are paper cups, napkins, whole bags of fast-food leftovers. Never money, though.
Books, magazines, a baby diaper–I dodged that one. But I couldn’t miss the beer bottle, map, or hairbrush. Luckily, the T-shirt, stick, and teething ring weren’t close enough to cause damage. And the rope, sneaker and grocery bag with something in it were throw out of cars on the other side of the road.
You stay alert on a motorcycle, but some things can’t be avoided. I generally come home with bug splats on the windshield. A few weeks ago, a lightning bug hit the face shield and I had to squint around the luminescence for at least 12 miles.
When I tell people I ride a bike, most people tell me how we scare them because we stop too fast. Maybe it’s the flying trash from the car ahead of us.
–Quinn McDonald is an artist. See the work at QuinnCreativeShop.com (c) Quinn McDonald, 2006. All rights reserved.
