Sunday, June 26, 2016

I Gotta Fly


Crosscut Canal, Camelback Mountain in the distance

I gotta fly. I love it when the feeling grabs hold of me, pulls me off the couch, and out onto the night streets and paths. "It's still a hundred degrees out," she calls after me as I roll out the door, and I reassure her that I know where all the drinking fountains are, even though I know I won't stop. 

The zone must have found me tonight, or me it, because at one point, I kind of noticed that I hadn't been noticing where I was, hadn't noticed that I passed one or two spots that I usually check out, but had just been flying along the canal at night, listening to the quiet sound of my tires on the gravel, and the water flowing along, and me flowing like water.

Tiny symbol of affluence parked in my bike lane

Then I saw this tiny toy Range Rover parked in the bike lane, and while I was struck by what a nice bicycle could probably have been purchased for the child rather than this thing, I was glad of it, too. Where my mind was at the moment I encountered it, the sight pulled my perspecitve in, made me feel small, then tall, then wonga wonga wonga I just laughed and looked back at it, thinking its owner would probably park the real thing the same way, some day.

The bike runs quiet at night on these smooth black top streets. A few people took notice of how quiet I was when I passed by on the flatland commuter fixed gear bike. A few extra bonus miles along the Crosscut canal called my name, so I made the turn and rode that way, too. Wanted to keep going, wanted to heed the call to fly, but I also think one can get greedy with the feeling, and that it should be taken somewhat in moderation, rationed out across the summer nights. I gotta fly, and thank you night, it was golden.

 

2 comments:

  1. Nice post...Almost a poem of night cycling..... :-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks for a lovely post. Truly enjoyed it.

    ReplyDelete

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