Searching for answers on solo rides somewhere between dog attacks, angry, stink eyed hikers, and heated ten second debates. Smelling the clay, the diesel, the dying trees and the teeth grind inside the head. The anger wants to be in the front of the brain. It resents being repressed. Riding faster makes it lay down and sleep.
Leisure time is another luxury given up in this new era of conservation and frugality. There is not as much of anything as there was before, and the necessities take precedence. Soccer. Band. Rain. Work. School. They chew away at the account. They are the new obstacles that are at once disturbing the rhythm, and being added into the memory banks. Soon they will be after thoughts and will blend into the ride, as though they have always been on the trail. The new default settings are being loaded. (Please stand by this could take a few minutes)
The transition to acceptance, is the painful part of the process.
Chains keep us together.
W.B.Z.N.
7 comments:
Although the subject is tough, the writing was tender.
Heard on a "future" ride, "do you remember that funny, hyper, guy that used to ride with us...I think he was in a band once"
Come on man, a PC 971? Have some pride.
Got to go with the hollow pin. Why do I feel like we are the same person?
Acceptance turns to pleasure.
You should sue ColdPlay; it'll make you feel better.
Oh, and my bike is fixed and loaded with SRAM; I'm out there now, hunt me down for some Satch bashin'
Satch rocks!
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