Thursday, January 7, 2010
One Never Forgets
I rode a bicycle today. I haven’t been on one in years. The bicycle I rode is new, but not fancy in any way. It has no gears or hand-brakes. I think my wife said it cost eighty-nine dollars. But it does have big rugged white-walls. She gave me the bike for Christmas. Since then, I’ve been waiting for dry pavement. It rained, and then it snowed, and then there was ice, and then it rained again. The bike has fenders, so there won’t be a muddy wet stripe painted on my back, but I certainly didn’t want to ruin its appearance my first time out — unless I ruined it by being on it. It’s more likely, though, that I only rendered it comical. Some young men singing in Spanish while repairing a neighbor’s roof did stop what they were doing to watch and smile as I rode by. Or maybe I only imagined their smiles. Now that I think about it, I also imagined their singing. But I didn’t imagine them — there was no need, because they were there. Or were they? Oh, well. I’m pretty sure about the bike, anyway.