i do not feel connected to many things, but when i am on two wheels, i feel at home. comfortable. totally in control regardless of circumstance.
so each saturday morning i try to plan a quick bike ride thru the heart of our sleepy metropolis. i run stop lights, chase buses, and generally behave like a hooligan; accompanied only by a fervid soundtrack of my choosing.
i stop off at my favorite coffeehouse for a hot chocolate, take some time to enjoy the scenery, and then head home.
it only takes me a couple hours and offers just enough danger and escapism to make me feel a little more alive.
but as much as i enjoy this routine, i also enjoy change. so i figure i'd try something different this day and join in on a small group ride
there were many lessons learned from this fateful last minute decision. specifically, six.
• • •
lesson one: fat men in lycra
when i first got involved in running and cycling and the like, i dressed like everyone else, which meant i spent an unfortunate amount of time in obnoxiously patterned shorty shorts, gauzey tank tops, beanie caps with giant visors and other buffoonish accessories. then one day while standing in line at the grocery store after a local 5k, i had an epiphany: this is really, really stupid. since then, i've come to the conclusion that there is nothing wrong with black shorts and white t-shirts. but there is an even more devious culprit out there: lycra. and i can steadfastly say that unless you are chiseled from stone, you have no business wearing it. because if you do, you will undoubtedly look like a piece of sausage anxious to burst from it's casing. and you thought muffin tops were bad...
lesson two: mint commodes
you don't really know somebody until you spend some time with them. and since no one else showed up for the group ride, i learn a lot about my fellow cyclist. instead of taking the usual ride south, we head north to swing by a citywide garage sale he heard about. i'm game, and so we make our way through some back roads and onto the other side of town. and though i've lived here most of my life, we travel thru neighborhoods i've never seen. i take mental notes so as to find my way back should we get separated. the crack dealer in the red shirt is on our right. the obese lady on the lawn chair is on the left. once we make it to the yard sale, i learn something else: my compadre is not just a bargain shopper, he's a collector, a packrat, a rummager and scrap metal dealer. and every man's trash is his treasure. he gets excited when we spot three hundred pounds of rusting metal beams; just sitting there on the curb, waiting to be taken. but the showstopper is a toilet. he spots it a full block away and we slowly ride toward its green hue as if pulled by destiny itself. he is beside himself. and i stand there with him. in overwhelming awe of his overwhelming awe.
lesson three: god and cookies
i made the mistake of not eating breakfast, and after puttering around much longer than expected, i'm starving. i keep hoping one of the tables of personal items contains a pizza box with some discarded crusts, but no luck. i convince my riding partner that we're way past chow time, so we leave the neighborhood en route to a restaurant and run directly into a church parking lot abuzz with rummage sale activity. i know we're in trouble when he dismounts and begins to walk his bike. i reluctantly do the same, and that's when i notice the table full of baked goods. i grab as many items as my two bucks can buy and greedily dig in. and then the lady tells me it's a fundraiser for the boyscouts and i just about spit out a large chunk of oatmeal chocolate chip. ugh. the boyscouts. the same group that requires an oath to god and forbids openly gay members. now i am in a dilemma; i am physically hungry, but ethically repulsed. in the end, i choke down my mouthful of sugary sludge. moral turpitude never tasted so delicious.
lesson four: secretaries
we're crossing a major highway intersection via access roads and wrong way signs. my buddy shoots ahead and i'm stuck at a stop sign. a car pulls up and the occupants stare at me blankly. then the passenger speaks, his heavy accent cutting normal words into unusual sounds: 'secadiddy.' what? what did he just say? 'secondtitty.' huh? 'secondary. we're looking for secretary.' i'm completely confused. is secretaries a bar? a place like hooters where the waitresses dress in business casual attire? i'm lost. the driver sees my puzzlement and chimes in: 'secretary. where is secretary. electronic.' what the... wait a second: circuit city! they are looking for circuit city! that's what they're looking for! I smile and mentally congratulate myself for solving the linguistic puzzle, and then realize i have no idea where circuit city actually is.
lesson five: hot chocolate mexican death
we forgo the first two taco houses because they are packed with pickup trucks and loyal customers. we settle for a mexican food joint that was once a convenience store and now serves fish in addition to fixing computers. i know this because it says so on the sign that once displayed the price for unleaded fuel. to say this place is sketchy and a little suspicious is putting it mildly. and while the pictures on the menu are thoroughly engaging in a rorschach test kind of way, after i look around the premises and into the open kitchen, i'm certain that ordering any one of the blotches is certain to kill me. my mate is more adventurous and orders the plato rancho. i try not to touch anything, and against my better judgement ask for hot chocolate even though it's not on the menu. the waitress brings me a cup of hot water that still has a clump of chocolate powder waiting to be mixed in. i drink it begrudgingly, certain that i will have salmonella or botulism or both by days end.
lesson six: home free
the headwind has been killing us on the ride back, draining me of my enthusiasm to be on a bike. the gusts are blowing us all kinds of sideways and dangerously close to the morning traffic. we're nearing a recognizable thoroughfare, and if i bow out now, i can make it home in no time. i thank my companion for the ride, as he rolls on, and i take a hard right. it's quiet now, and the wind is pushing me forward. i jump into the big chainring for the first time all day, and hit that perfect rhythm where cadence and speed and effort all seem to synchronize and overlap with one another. i am a blur down main street. a solitary blur boundless and free.
