One Last Huzzah For Nostalgia
Last night, I took a midnight ride on my old DK Cincinnati. I felt this impulse, this urge to cruise around my driveway on my old bike. I remember now I why loved riding so much. I got such a thrill from speeding down the road at breakneck speed. I loved it for the sheer simplicity of it. I was propelling myself forward, and if anything went wrong, I knew exactly who to blame: myself. My problems would be blurred to an incoherent blob. I never escaped them, because let's face it. No matter how fast and far away you go, your problems will follow you wherever you go like your shadow.
I remember the first time I bunnyhopped. The first bunnyhop is much like a baby's first footsteps, lifting the entire combined weight of yourself and the bike only a few inches off the ground. It was summer then, possibly the second night of the Stonington Summerfest. Fog had begun to roll in thick and fast, so much that the roads were flooded with it and you could barely make out the outline of your own hand right in front of your face. I forgot about the cold rush of wind that hits you when you are pedaling that fast.
I remember one year in high school or perhaps it was junior...sorry I digressed from my point. I went to a high school youth group convention regardless of my age or the current grade I was in. I remember attending some college preparation class there and we were asked to tell our hobbies to the person sitting next to us. That person would then relay the information to the entire group, kind of an icebreaker. I recall very distinctly telling the guy I was talking to that my hobby was riding BMX. Instead of saying that, the guy said writing. I found the idea of writing to be ludicrous at that time.
It took me about three years' time to finally consider perhaps writing was not ludicrous. It is truly strange how these things come about. I think what attracted me to write was the same thing that attracted me to riding. I was the one holding the pen and making it dance across the paper and whatever mistakes I made I knew who made them: me. It surely was not the paper's fault that I messed up. Plus I could go back and fix what was broken.
But what I think attracted me to both of them the most was the power and freedom they offered. Not power and freedom over everything, but power and freedom over myself. I think a good deal of people view the world we live in as dark and bleak and that we are powerless and that we are just small sailboats being blown from one place to the other by the wind of fate. Yes, people are thrown by the wave of chance from coast to coast, but only if they let themselves be. We all have a choice to make in our lives and the control to set course for that final point on the horizon, that final destination. We all have the freedom to choose which direction we go, and the power to propell ourselves forward.
Bon Vovage,
Samuel L. VanGeison
Last night, I took a midnight ride on my old DK Cincinnati. I felt this impulse, this urge to cruise around my driveway on my old bike. I remember now I why loved riding so much. I got such a thrill from speeding down the road at breakneck speed. I loved it for the sheer simplicity of it. I was propelling myself forward, and if anything went wrong, I knew exactly who to blame: myself. My problems would be blurred to an incoherent blob. I never escaped them, because let's face it. No matter how fast and far away you go, your problems will follow you wherever you go like your shadow.
I remember the first time I bunnyhopped. The first bunnyhop is much like a baby's first footsteps, lifting the entire combined weight of yourself and the bike only a few inches off the ground. It was summer then, possibly the second night of the Stonington Summerfest. Fog had begun to roll in thick and fast, so much that the roads were flooded with it and you could barely make out the outline of your own hand right in front of your face. I forgot about the cold rush of wind that hits you when you are pedaling that fast.
I remember one year in high school or perhaps it was junior...sorry I digressed from my point. I went to a high school youth group convention regardless of my age or the current grade I was in. I remember attending some college preparation class there and we were asked to tell our hobbies to the person sitting next to us. That person would then relay the information to the entire group, kind of an icebreaker. I recall very distinctly telling the guy I was talking to that my hobby was riding BMX. Instead of saying that, the guy said writing. I found the idea of writing to be ludicrous at that time.
It took me about three years' time to finally consider perhaps writing was not ludicrous. It is truly strange how these things come about. I think what attracted me to write was the same thing that attracted me to riding. I was the one holding the pen and making it dance across the paper and whatever mistakes I made I knew who made them: me. It surely was not the paper's fault that I messed up. Plus I could go back and fix what was broken.
But what I think attracted me to both of them the most was the power and freedom they offered. Not power and freedom over everything, but power and freedom over myself. I think a good deal of people view the world we live in as dark and bleak and that we are powerless and that we are just small sailboats being blown from one place to the other by the wind of fate. Yes, people are thrown by the wave of chance from coast to coast, but only if they let themselves be. We all have a choice to make in our lives and the control to set course for that final point on the horizon, that final destination. We all have the freedom to choose which direction we go, and the power to propell ourselves forward.
Bon Vovage,
Samuel L. VanGeison
posted by Sam | 2:03 PM
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