Ride Your Bike Like Nobody's Watching

(Published on Happy News) Link to online article

Ride Your Bike Like Nobody's Watching
by David Stoddard

A couple of weeks ago, I took my bike out for a ride. Not that the bike needed the exercise, but I thought it would like to pal around with me for a bit. Plus, I could use the lift.

Our journey together was fairly brief. Hand on handlebar, along the paved trail behind the house, we rode. Up hills, around turns, over fallen leaves and twigs and through a few deep puddles we rode.

We passed a few kids, who were also palling around with their own bikes. Of course, they were more interested in the dirt roads others had created than being concerned about whatever I was doing.

When my bike and I were passing them, we couldn’t help but think about things. I can’t speak for the bike, but I questioned, would these kids ever lose their sense of wonder? Will there ever come a day when they will choose to stay on the paved trail instead of going on their own adventures? When will they become (gasp!) adults?

Looking back, as kids we had chores to do, such as cleaning our room, raking leaves, washing dishes, cleaning our room again, cutting grass, vacuuming, making the bed (which I still don’t really understand) and maybe cleaning our room for the third time the same day.

Despite it all, we found time to have fun. Even during our busy “work” schedule at school, we made time to do lunch, have recess and even work out in gym class.

After our day was done, we may have taken work home with us, but we still squeezed in a few hours without friends, some television watching and even played our records (round plastic disks about the size of a hubcap that normally had musical songs on them).

We would eventually finish our homework at one o’clock in the morning under the covers or on the school bus the next day. But that’s not the point.

The point is, somewhere along the way, we lost the ability to play and act a fool. Sure, the need to have a job, make money, buy food, support the economy, buy some clothes and maybe a CD or two (round plastic disks, about the size of your opened hand, with the same musical songs on them), has something to do with that.

I also suppose the need to fit in with other adults who get up, go to work, eat at their desk, get back to work, leave work, bring work home and eventually get to sleep is important to prove we are adults as well. After all, these other adults are doing it; it must be what adults do.

I just have one question, and you know what I am about to ask. If all these other adults jumped off a bridge, would you bake a cake and celebrate your freedom because you no
longer had to be just like everyone else?

Who says just because we are a certain age we have to give up doing things like running through sprinklers, rolling around in the leaves or crawling out of part of an airplane, shimmy though a man-made twisted metal tubes, make our way to another part of a plane, squeeze out of there only to end up atop a 90-foot slide that leads to the back of a fire truck at the St. Louis City Museum? (I did it, but I digress).

We have gotten to a point as adults, where we are so busy working for the weekend that once we get there, we have nothing but more work ahead of us. From cutting grass to changing light bulbs, to repairing that hole in the wall we made when the Cubs gave up the eight runs in a single inning a few years back during the playoffs. (And no, I haven’t gotten over it yet).

So, needless to say, it’s time to lighten up a bit. So let’s get started today. Get that bike out of the shed, fill up the tires (get new ones if necessary), climb aboard and pedal yourself crazy.

And if you feel the urge to pop a few wheelies, be sure to wear a helmet.



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(c) David Stoddard
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