A glorious mid-summer day with perfect sunshine, low humidity and not a cloud in the sky. The wind is blowing off the lake bringing the temperature down to the mid-seventies in the afternoon, still quite brisk this morning. I had a great ride in. I was about two minutes behind my riding buddy so I chained up to the big sprocket on front and cranked. By the time I caught her 2 miles later I had been cruising along at over 20 mph and huffing. It was good to catch my breath when we joined up. The rest of the ride was very pleasant, always nice to have company, especially if you can still cruise along at a decent pace. The group dynamic suffers from slow riders pulling back the pack, but we are tuned into a very nice 16-18 mph pace, getting me to work before the electronic lock opens the door. Just as I clicked out of my peddle the door clicked open, 27 minutes from Austin to the College of Medicine West. My homies let me know how close I was getting to my partner. At Laramie, the newspaper man told me that the lady said I would be trying to catch her, sure enough, he was right. At Kostner the euphonious one chimed out "ice-screammmmm" then let me know "lady ice-cream" was just ahead. As I rounded the corner back on to Harrison south of the Ike, there she was, 2 blocks ahead. It was a good sprint to catch up before the light at Pulaski changed.
As I ride through the hood on my way to and from work, I alway see the same folks, always in the same place, doing the same thing-- year after year. We all seem to disappear in the winter, but during the warmer months, there they are. The constant welder, the guy with the world's best work ethic at Latham industries, always at work always giving us the fist up salute as we cruise past. And the folks sitting on their front stoop in the evening as I ride home. I was struck by the realization that those 6 or 8 people, ranging in age from small children playing in the postage stamp front yard, to the old woman sitting on steps-- possibly 5 generations of the same family, all must live in that brownstone two story home. What struck me was knowing that this is what they have to look forward to. Nice and cool on the porch, watching the world go by. Day after day, year after year, this is their neighborhood, their world, their reality-- their future. No plans for leaving, just dreams of it. As their path stretches out forever before them, I rejoice in the certain knowledge that my path is about to change. Not the path of my life or my beliefs, this is THE PATH, the way, but my surroundings, my environment, my reality. My new bike ride to work will be on country roads up and down the hills of southern Illinois. Evenings spent on the wrap around porch looking out on the the fields and ponds and forests of my own property. Taking dog walks on my own land. Our neighbors not feet from our door, but hundreds of yards away. We'll hear birds singing, not the neighbor singing in the shower in the morning. The sirens screaming by will be the mythical creatures of Odysseus, not the cops on Harlem running down speeders. As I look to the future, I can only use my imagination to see what my surroundings offer, instead of knowing that just past Cicero heading west on Harrison there is a pot hole just past the bus shelter that I have to go around every day.
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