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Carolyn at Blueproof calls it a sickness. I just didn’t know how much I missed riding, really riding, until today. Now I ride every day, but that is commuting, and that is not really riding. But today I have errands to run, things I put off last weekend to go riding. While out I saw so many bikes. It is only the second sunny Saturday of the year and everyone was out enjoying it. They were everywhere. A pack of sport riders trying to tame their throttle hand for city streets. A lone full-dresser rumbling up to the stoplight. I was missing riding, really riding.
I saw a Harley on the side of the freeway on-ramp, the rider standing behind it talking on his cellphone. I assumed he needed assistance and pulled over, a seemingly unselfish act to help out a fellow rider. But in reality I just wanted to be around a bike. I wanted to use the words only used when talking about motorcycles. I wanted to smell gasoline and get dirty. And maybe I could have been helpful but probably not. My Civic Hybrid has a really crappy tool set and the Leatherman I carry in the glove compartment is not really suited for automotive applications. I just wanted to talk ‘cycle. All this soon became moot. Before I came to a complete stop he waved me on. There was nothing wrong with his bike, he just had to take a call. I told myself I was glad that his bike was ok but I was a little dissapointed.
I got the fever.Permalink
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