I'm anything but roundabout

Conquering the roundabouts is the next mission. Or should I say 'adventure'? Don't forget, I'm attempting to accomplish this task on my bike. If you're nervous, stop reading. There's nothing calming, beautiful or easy about a Parisian roundabout. I don't know what makes them seem different than others. Are they bigger? (six lanes of traffic or more) Are they faster? (I don't think so.) Is it that sometimes there's a random light in what seems to be the center of the roundabout? (which people don't seem to obey anyway) Oh yeah. Maybe it's just the fact that I'm on a bike surrounded by other bikes, cars, trucks and motorcycles. The safest place would seem to be in the right hand lane, on the edge of it all. Well, I quickly learned that you're really living on the edge if you try this move. The guy to your left wants to kill you because he's turning right on the next street. The guy from the next street wants to kill you because he's desparately trying to enter the big circle of frenzy. The gentle soul behind you is patient for awhile, but then he wants to kill you, too.

So, a few days later, I decided to try the left lane. It seemed to work at first. No one can turn left, so you're really not in anyone's way. The funny thing is, I usually have to go all the way around the roundabout. Maybe if I just had to go right two streets after I entered, I could manage. Back to picking the left lane. It's working. It's working. I've tucked myself safely against the fence thats protecting the monument in the middle of this grand plaza. But suddenly I realize that eventually I have to turn right and now I'm at the far left side of 23 lanes of traffic wondering how I'm going to work my way back to the right side so I can get out of this mess. Voilà! There's a break in the middle and I can go left! But, I can only continue going left around and around and around the same statue. If only there was a prostitute around to save me from one more lap. (You won't get that one unless you've been reading from the beginning.) So, I hold my breath, smile, perhaps wince a little, and work my way back to the right. I made it.

The next day I left for work a little earlier. I took a paper and pencil and stopped at the first one to study it. Did I say 'first one'? It's true, I have to do two a day. That's really four if I don't have some fabulous plan after work that ends up taking me home in a different direction. Which I seldom do. So, I decide it makes sense to pick the middle lane. Then you're not making EVERYONE mad, just your immediate neighbors. And, it kind of worked! Don't ask me how. I was still having the same heart attack I had before, but when I finished, I pulled off on the sidewalk, sighed and reevaluated. And I actually laughed (out loud). In some strange roundabout way, I'd conquered Bastille.