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Wednesday was my third day commuting without a car.

You were wondering when it was going to finally rain this week, weren't you?

I borrowed a bike from a co-worker because the one I had bought the day before wasn't ready for work. That put me at a disadvantage, because the borrowed bike has racing handlebars, worn brakes that merely suggest stopping and a seat so unforgiving it probably was designed around the time I last rode a bike regularly: circa 1977.

All that aside, I found that riding a bike is, indeed, pretty much just like riding a bike. It comes back to you. I consider it an accomplishment that I didn't tip over once.

Remember, I live about eight miles from The Tribune newsroom. Veterans of the pedal-powered commute can do that in 40 minutes.

I made my backpack as light as possible and at 7 a.m. headed down Silver Avenue and up Yale Boulevard to meet my co-worker, Charlotte Hill Cobb, at Yale and Las Lomas. She would be my trail guide along the maze of drainage canals, highway underpasses and the industrial complex that is the Journal Center.

Crossing the major east-west thoroughfares on bike, the cars look like rampaging bullies. But once out on the trail with the cars far behind, this mode of transportation provided me with the best view of the city yet. We drank in the morning sun, watched birds chase each other and puzzled over cookie-cutter housing developments off to the sides.

As we closed in on the Big-I, I felt like I was soaring above the busy traffic, but was hit with a twinge of fear as I approached the steep decline to the I-40 underpass. You swoosh down under the interstate at top speed and shoot up the other side like some cheap X Games stunt. We did that again - more fun this time - crossing beneath I-25.

We arrived at the office at 7:50 a.m., my shortest commute of the week. And gas-free, of course.

Gas. Did the price go up this week? I haven't noticed. It's funny how we constantly gas-shop while we drive.

Bill Harris has been hearing the familiar lament over gas prices a lot at his shop, Campus Bicycle. As he rang up my purchase Tuesday, he said business at the University Area shop has picked up the past two years.

Harris said that when he opened for business about 30 years ago, he didn't even own a bike. He learned on the job.

"It took me five hours to put my first bike together," he recalled.

It took him only about 10 minutes to outfit my new bike with reinforced inner tubes and a few extras and to send me merrily on my way.

But not all bicycle outings are handlebar bells and streamers.

As co-worker Charlotte and I saddled up again around 3:45 p.m., a drizzle began to fall on cue. We immediately Rolodexed through backup options: pedaling to the Rail Runner Express station about 10 minutes away; heading to the bus stop on Jefferson; and calling her husband to fetch us by car, like the patrols that rescue downed balloonists.

We elected to ride. We toughed out a few microclimates, including a mild hailstorm. But after passing the protective underpass at I-40, the skies released their fury. With no shelter ahead and not wanting to turn around, we got soaked.

Charlotte and I soon diverged, and I made it home in a light drizzle. I wrung out my socks, took a hot shower and headed for a nap.

I still had my weekly late-night radio shift at KANW. But no sweat. That's a three-minute ride, and the skies were mostly clear.

I planned to sleep in today. I'll be working from home on Day 4, recuperating.

And it'll be my shortest and cheapest commute yet - walking to the next room to fire up my home computer.

Length of commute (compared to 10-minute car ride): 50 minutes

Cost: $0

Reading done: None