i am standing in the shop waiting for my vehicle to be ready, anxiously watching the minutes pass and realizing there is no way i am going to make it back to the office in time for my 10:30 appointment.
i have a damaged wheel, a faulty transmission, and brakes that require a complete overhaul. when the job is complete, the mechanic hands me the bill: thirty seven fifty. not cheap, but things could have been worse, much worse.
especially if this were a typical garage.
. . .
i hand over two $20s, collect my change and pedal back to work as fast as possible. and along the way, as the wind whips thru my doltish helmet, as trucks honk and people go out of their way to express themselves, i realize this:
i am the 40 year old virgin.
i am the middle-aged guy who does not own a car and rides his bike to work.
i am the single guy who lives in a quiet place surrounded by octogenarian neighbors.
i am the geek, the nerd, the sweaty wallflower in the bookstore.
i am the superdork.
and i could not be any happier.
true, life on two wheels does come with its own unique set of challenges. shopping is dictated by what you can fit in your backpack. going out at night or in the rain is impractical, if not dangerous. and your clothing options are dictated by function over fashion.
but without a doubt, every day is an adventure. and that is awesome.
whether i am on my motorcycle, or my bike, my commute is always interesting, and above all, fun. it's actually gratifying to go places, as opposed to grating. after all, lane splitting on a motorcycle is legal in texas, and with a little skill on a mountain bike, there's practically no rules or limits on where you tread - roads are just one of many options.
maybe it's the connection to the environment that makes the experience so liberating, the fact that all your senses are synced up and on high alert, since your survival literally depends on it. daydream in a typical automobile and you may end up in a fender bender. daydream on two wheels and the consequences are far worse.
. . .
in the backseat of the car, on the way to my older brother's high school graduation, we come across an accident. headlights on and engine running, a motorcycle is eerily pinned beneath a truck, along with a student who was supposed to walk the stage that nite.
everyone knows someone, or knows of someone who has died on two wheels, and that was my introduction. maybe that's why there seems to be such a connection among those who ride.
or maybe it's the helmets, and the anonymity they provide. put someone in full gear and they automatically lose their ethnicity, background and social status. they become just another player in the game. and this game is far too interesting and engaging to waste time worrying about anything else.
