|no hands were used in the riding of this bicycle|
I rode a significant portion of my commute with no hands on Thursday night, riding along singing REM tunes. On an empty street and still, warm air it felt like what to do. Life is bigger. I don't recommend riding regularly with no hands, but I also rode a couple of miles today with no helmet (forgot it, running late to meet someone), too, so, yeah, just a little letting loose was occurring. Through the traffic circle: no hands. Left at the turnoff: no hands. Waving and smiling at the woman riding the other way, her beaming back: one hand waving, no hands on the bike. Hell, I was waving at cars. CARS. One beeped a happy beep back.
The no hands riding experience gives you a sense of what balance on a bicycle really is. I put my hands straight up in the air for a minute, why not? This warm pre-summer desert air wrapped around me and I closed my eyes just for a moment. Three pedals, one, two, three. That which is held with no hands: now? Here and now? More at balance, everything beautiful in its time. Then it slips away, it all does, the next moment arrives full in itself, though. With no hands you're riding like a river over rocks through riffles down to the sea. 25 years ago I imagined what this would be and I think this is actually as I imagined it. Delusions for a fool. But her smile across the street was no delusion. That was a real instant. Actuality. With no hands. Get up. Go ride.