The Ride

"Mom, mom." I felt someone tug at my warm covers. "The bike ride?" I didn't move. In a few minutes I felt a light silky body being held on my chest, a lure of one of my favorite things to wake me up. I scratched Pye's chin, nuzzled her fur, stretched and groggily rolled out of bed. Twenty minutes later we were on the road.


My daughter rode up to me at an intersection. "I love bike rides! Don't you? I feel like I'm on a roller coaster with the wind in my face." At another intersection, "Wasn't this a great idea? Aren't you having fun? Can we do this again?"

Twenty five minutes later we pulled up to her school. Her body language showed her confidence in her achievement. After parking her bike and receiving the accolades from her teachers for her long ride, she walked up to me and held me close then with head held high, walked into the school.

I rode home, no longer worried about a tailing biker. I reveled in the honest open interaction with the world and thought about all I had missed, driving this route twice every day. One home was replacing it's solar panels, another the roof. There was a funeral program in the ditch in front one home, and another was growing a beautiful purple ground cover I'd like to try. I felt a connection to the unseen homeowners.

Biking brought a more direct interaction with the drivers as well. They saw my smile and responded in kind. Some paused for my safety and others sped by as though my presence at the side of the road was a mortal offense.

I turned down my lane. Intoxicated by the smell of summer flowers and freshly cut grass, I zoomed down the hill. The spokes hissed and I raised my arms to feel the wind rush to meet me.

It felt like a roller coaster.