Just like riding a bike

In a recent phone call with Tom, I lamented not having a blog anymore, and confided I was jealous of his outlet. He was nice enough to carve out this little space for me, but I've been hard pressed to type anything. I didn't want to just rant, or proselytize, but I'm sure there'll be a bit of both. Unlike Tom, I don't have word/time constraints, so here we go:

I bought my girlfriend a bicycle for her birthday. I thought it would be nice to take family bike rides, and generally get active. I had no clue there was a bicycle shortage. Honestly, even though the trade war that devastated our economy has tanked my income (China is the largest purchaser of Oregon hazelnuts), I haven't really felt it. I didn't rush out to buy toilet paper when the pandemic hit. Of course, I was in no shape to shop for anything, since I was on my third round of COVID at that point. I have felt things not being available as paper producers shifted towards extra TP production, instead of packaging. I've watched the dominoes fall, where I can't get my coconut milk because of carton shortage, or had to switch to pasta in cellophane instead of a box. None of this surprised me. I managed to buy her a bike, oblivious to the shortage, in her favorite color. I don't know if I paid too much, because it was a gift. When her birthday rolled around, she was pretty pissed at me for not getting her anything, because she watched Porsche part after Porsche part show up on the doorstep, convinced I had forgotten her. Truth was, a parts supplier did a "Christmas in July" sale, and 50% off is still a deal, even if I have to pay the 14% credit card interest. She doesn't fathom how it pains me to buy parts for a car I won't live long enough to restore, let alone drive again. She also doesn't get that me getting something doesn't mean she has to go without, a lesson most Americans could stand to learn about that hypothetical piece of the pie. She was, however, happy with her gift.

The next morning we set out on a bike ride. We agreed to nothing strenuous, just a leisurely cruise. We followed the orchard in front of my house, turned right to stay on the property, blissfully ignoring the morning traffic of people heading to Portland for their daily grind. I have to admit, it was pretty shaky at first. It doesn't really come back to you instantly as the phrase would suggest. We turned down my next door neighbor/cousin's driveway, staying on the family farm, surrounded by hazelnut orchards. At this point, Karen was repeatedly ditching me, having to stop for me to catch up, claiming her bike was too fast to match the pace of my beach cruiser. I suggested we pedal to the Half Mile Bridge, named for being half a mile into the farm, and crossing the creek that goes half a mile in either direction to the edges of the property. With a destination in mind, she jetted ahead, leaving me to take in the morning at my own pace. We passed by my other house, which Karen and her daughters have been living in while I try to get the main house repaired; past the barn where I touched my first boob, a cousin's friend who had been visiting one summer from San Francisco, and the same barn where my brother had lived in for a few years, inside a parked trailer tucked away next to the hay bales. Flood after flood of childhood memories washed over me as I found my rhythm, with downhill coasts rattling my teeth, thinking how much I would've enjoyed that when I was younger, but instead gripping the handlebars for dear life in anxiety. When I finally reached the Half Mile Bridge, Karen was waiting for me in the shade. Orchards as far as the eye can see in every direction. My phone alarm went off reminding me it was time to take my medication, bringing me back to reality that I'm in really poor health; this journey had been taxing, and I still had to do the equal distance to get home. I looked around at the newly planted orchards, thinking of the orchard that had been there before, that I had personally planted, using my earnings to buy a PK Ripper frame, and build my own bike. I've watched this land change with me for the last half a century plus, and I can still picture it all. What was here. What was here before us. What it might be. Seeing woods that are no longer there, that I learned how to use dynamite to clear, sifting through the rubble for prized indigenous arrowheads. The moment passed, and we pedaled home, back the way we came.

We've gone on a bike ride every day, since. It doesn't seem to be getting easier, but the distance gets farther each day. I'm hoping being active increases my odds of sticking around, but i know the odds aren't in my favor. Either way, it's a happy morning addition to my set schedule. I'd like to think that typing stuff out will be, too, but it will be if the moment strikes me. Either way, here it is: my first blog in many years. Just like riding a bike.