The child inside

And here it is...

My new bike. Well, this isn't exactly the one, but it's the identical model and color. Not a huge purple fan, but it's a nice 7-speed cruiser bike. (The blue cardboard insert in the front wheel has been removed from mine.)

I'm obviously not climbing mountains on the thing, but while I was riding it around yesterday, I felt like I was a kid all over again. I haven't been riding for fun in a long time. I had a bike in college, but it was used as a means of getting to class and back, not for joy rides. But now, it's all for enjoyment (and exercise!).

There's just something magical about being on a bike. It's like you're still small and stealthy like a child and the thrill of speed can't stop the giggles bubbling inside.

I tried to find someone else's thoughts on the matter and came across the following poem:


To A Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

~Linda Pastan