Tonight I saw a man riding his bike and although he was over 30 and riding a mountain bike, it might as well have been a BMX. That was how he was riding it - like an 8 year old on his dirt bike. He stood up on the pedals and hunched over the handlebars. All of his weight down on one pedal, then the other. He methodically and rhymically pedalled. His torso leaned to the other side, balancing the extreme angle of his bike. He wore ear phones and chewed gum and that, on top of pedalling, was all he had to do. It was that simple.
He looked at nothing yet seemed to take it all in, as though the breeze blowing the hair back from his forehead delivered all the information he needed. From the look on his face I could see he was mulling over his day. The marbles he'd won, the good grade he'd gotten on his report, the way Suzy cheered when he caught the kick ball. Yes, a good day.
Then his thoughts turned to home and all the evening held. A bowl of ice cream. A bath. A story before bed.
1 comment:
You're describing every nice day in Montana during the summer. Bicyclists are out in droves - including me and AJ the other day. AJ fit the role of 30-year-old (okay almost) kid punk breezing through red lights and riding in the middle of the road and making traffic move over for him. Ahhhh, I love summer on MT.
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