Last updated on 05/02/2010
I giggled and sang with excitement tonight as I pushed my bike out of the garage. It was a gorgeous spring evening. The birds were singing, a gentle breeze blew, and the sun was lazy, low on the horizon. I sat on the seat and the bike just coasted right down the driveway and onto our street. I smiled. How could I not smile. I’d just given myself the gift of freedom!
There’s something completely liberating about riding a bike. Maybe it’s the wind blowing through my hair, or the way the tires seem to float across the asphalt. Could be the sights and sounds that whiz by as I pedal, slowly, quickly, then coast. The air smelled of flowers. I thought, ‘God must be doing laundry. I can smell the warm fragrant air from the dryer vent.’
One thing that I’ve discovered this week, purely by accident, is that I love wearing a dress when I ride. Maybe I did when I was a girl, I don’t remember…but this week I’ve been coming home from work, pulling off my sandals, and hopping on my bike in whatever little skirt or dress I happen to be wearing. There’s something timeless, and very girly about it…and I highly recommend it, at-least for girls…
I rode down to the end of our neighborhood and back up the hill effortlessly. Happy…..last summer it was a challenge, and I didn’t venture too far. My body is healthier. My muscles are stronger. It was a natural reminder of my progress. The magical combination of self care and God’s grace have brought me far.
Just before heading back down our street, I stopped to smell the yellow Jasmine, blooming on our neighbor’s mailbox. I just can’t pass by without stopping to smell. Tiny bursts of yellow that smell so amazing, I am completely compelled to stop and take a hit before I can go any further. I sometimes wonder whether my neighbors ever look out the window and see me standing at their mailbox by myself, or with my bike, or when I’m walking my dog. “Smell the Jasmine” I tell her. “It smells so beautiful!”
My body thanked me for the fresh air, the movement, the Jasmine, the birds song, and the early hues of sunset. My mind was full of peace and gratitude.
Ever heard of a Blog Trailer? Well, me neither, but I couldn’t think of a way to incorporate these two little stories, so I made up “Blog Trailer” so that I’d have a place for the extras.
Trailer #1:
It’s a great bike. If she had a name it would be Periwinkle…blue with handle-bars that are a little bit tall, and a white, bouncy seat. When we were riding on the Greenway last summer we stopped in at a Starbucks. As I pulled up, a gal who looked like she might have a bike named Harley, hollered out, “You got yourself a Cadillac, dontcha guurl!” My eyes must’ve been big as saucers. I think she liked my bike as much as I do.
Trailer #2:
The first night I rode this week…I realized the air was low in my tires. Of-course I couldn’t find our bike pump, since I haven’t used a pump in about 25 years. I grabbed a handful of quarters and headed for the corner store to the air pump. I rode happily in the grass beside the busy road and across the parking lot only to discover that the air pump had been removed. I frowned and slumped…then parked on the sidewalk in front of the door. When I went in, a small man with a big smile and an accent I couldn’t place, said “Howiz youre riede?” “What?” I asked. He repeated himself, this time raising his hands to show handlebars. “Oh, it’s great, but I need air in my tires!” Well, apparently some goof-balls have been breaking the air pump machine to steal the quarters, so they removed the pump. He told me I’d have to go across the street. I did, and I pumped my tires. It’s amazing how capable this simple task made me feel. I wondered whether people were wondering why a grown woman was pumping bike tires in a dress on a Monday evening, but I just felt so happy, I didn’t care. I peddled home easily, through my neighbor’s field where apple trees grow, and got home by way of my back yard. In my dress….I felt like a girl again.
I lived on my bike when I was a kid. Had a bike up until a few years ago. These mountains just didn’t lend themselves to me riding on them. Still I love riding a bike…but not in a dress, sorry:-(
This is it right here: “There’s something completely liberating about riding a bike.”
I wrote about rediscovering my love for riding a bike last year. 🙂
Along with playing on a swing set it’s my favorite activity for feeling like a kid again. I make sure to jump lots of curbs so I really feel like I’m 10 years old. 🙂
Oh Nancy….your frownie face is too much for me! I think I’m going to have to change my title! If I know anyone who knows how to capture the freedom I write about, it’s you. I adore the image of little Nancy on a bike. I spent most of my childhood on a bike, too, and loved every minute of it.
Thanks for writing! You’re the best!
🙂
Hey Karol,
Swing sets and bikes have a way of bringing out the best in us! Can you still swing high-enough to come out of your seat…just before gravity pulls you back down?
While you were jumping curbs, we had a dirt path with lots of scary hills, the kind that made me squeal and laugh at the same time.
Thanks for the memories!
Take good care, and keep on playin’.
Jane
Guuurrl, what are you smokin’?
Can you see me in rolled up blue jeans, sailing down the dirt roads, goin’ to see my girlfriend? You’d think I’d been smokin’ something, huh?
Well, capture the vision, all the way to Shelby’s house.
Oh Mom…you’re cracking me up! That would’ve been a sight! Well, I can tell that just thinking about riding bikes makes us feel younger….how about the time you got on Jill’s ten-speed and didn’t know the brakes were on the handle bars! Some things are too funny to ever forget!
I like the new title MUCH better!
Ah the good ol’ childhood memories. Thanks for the reminder Jane.
Loved God doing laundry 🙂
As I was reading I started smelling Jasmine (in my mind). Your words are beautiful!
Hi Manal,
Writing this post, and reading the comments brought back many memories. I didn’t grow up with Jasmine, so discovering it since I’ve moved to North Carolina has been lovely.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for your comment 🙂
Take good care!
I eye my son’s new bike every time I pass by it on the back porch. Thinking of taking up riding, despite the image reels in my head replaying my great scooter accident on Bedford Avenue and my great sliding board accident at the primary school (both within the last four years and inspired by keeping up with my son).
Oh dear….a sliding board? Well, if you decide to borrow the bike, borrow the helmet, as well! I don’t know whether you’ve read the post ‘Is Your Flow Slow?…” but I talk about focusing my energy on being an active mom, and doing my best to participate when my son was growing up. Can’t say it was painless, but I’m grateful for the great memories and for the relationship I now have with him.
Take extra good care 🙂
Jane
Mason and I took a sentimental journey through the primary school playground one evening, a couple years after moving on to the Elementary School. For old time’s sake we visited each piece of playground equipment and ended with the tall metal slide. He went down and then directed me to follow adding, “no hands!” I did. I soared down the slide and took off like a hanglider, landing with great force on my bum on a well worn area in front of the slide. An emergency room visit the next day determined no broken bones, but the pain was tremendous and lasted for weeks.
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