Because I could not scoot for death, death kindly scooted for me.
What better way to end the daylight part of my day than a 70 mile ride through the sprawling (in a good way) countryside of the central Susquehanna valley? Honestly, I can’t think of one.
It’s so freeing to just ride on evenings like this. Work wasn’t so great. Nothing really bad happened or anything, just was a slow day. When I’m riding, I don’t want to do anything but ride. Even allowing myself to get off the bike is a chore.
When you’re riding you notice things that you wouldn’t notice when you’re caged in a car. The temperature changes so suddenly from hill to valley. The warm air will first hit your legs and slide up to your chest. But the cold air hits your neck when you ride down into a valley.
And it’s the cold air that makes me remember the chilly mornings camping with my family at Halfway Dam. It must be the crisp air that brings out the smells of the evergreens.
You notice other drivers more so than when you’re in a cage. You notice that they don’t see you. They’re simply not looking for you. Many aren’t really looking for anything. But even those who are looking, the “cautious” drivers, they just don’t see you. So you learn to watch for them.
It’s a weird, very untrusting relationship between me and any other car on the road. That’s the one thing about riding that I dislike. I enjoy trusting people. And most people can be trusted. But on the bike, you can’t afford to extend that trust. It’s much easier to figure that since any other thing on this road can definitely kill me, it probably will. You ride a lot safer that way.
When death is so close, you tend to think a little differently. At first, you ride conservatively. Slowly, very rigid and tense. But the longer you ride, the more you relax, the less freaked out you become.
I didn’t ride much in the winter. Mostly just to and from work. And now that it’s warmer, I’m riding a lot more. Like I said, 70 miles this evening. But when you’re getting back to riding the longer rides, you realize that you’ve lost a bit of confidence. I noticed that once again I’m stiff and pretty conservative. I am fully aware of my almost-certain death at the hands of any oncoming or following car. It’s real and it’s constant.
But in a few weeks I’ll lose that totally. And I’m not sure why. Is it because I’ve come to grips with my own mortality? That I realize that death can come at any time, for nearly any reason. Do I realize that my death could come whether I’m walking down the street, sleeping in my bed or doing 70mph down a hill on 10″ wheels – if it’s my time, it’s my time; if it’s not, it’s not.
Or do I just grow apathetic? Lazy. I don’t have any lofty realizations about death. Hell, I’m pretty freaked out by the whole affair. So for me, I’m not facing death. I’m not staring death in the eyes and spitting on death’s face. No, I’m just scooting along, doing my best to avoid being hit by cars and ignoring the obvious.
