On Christmas morning 1987, I woke up to the sound of metal tools hitting each other. I rolled out of my bed, rubbed my groggy eyes, and to my delight, I found my dad putting the last training wheel on my very first bike! I was so excited that it didn't even cross my mind that Santa didn't build it for me and took it out for a spin as soon as my mom let me. I rode around the house and down the sidewalk a couple house lengths and thought life couldn't get any better.
As time went on, school and life got in the way, I outgrew my bikes and never looked back--until recently. Somehow, the stars aligned, I inherited a vintage Specialized Sirrus and a friend of mine convinced me to go on a night bike ride last October. It was the monthly Midnight Ridazz ride and it was a “wear-whatever-costume-you-want” kind of party. That night, as I rode around the streets of Downtown LA as Harry Potter’s alter ego, I fell in love. It took me back to those days when I rode around my neighborhood as a kid and never felt so free, so cleared from the thoughts that were bogging me down for so many months. The wind blew through my cape and Hedwig hopped a ride in my backpack to join me o n my journey to escape the real world. It was like magic, not any ol’ pull-a-rabbit-out-of-a-hat magic, but the kind that rids of Voldemort.
When I'm on my bike, I feel like it's 1987 all over again except that Santa is now known as Specialized/Globe Bikes. I've become slightly obsessed with the pleasure of riding my bike whether it be on my roadie, a borrowed mountain, or my long awaited fixie. What can I say, the simple things in life bring the biggest smile to my face. :)
We have forgotten how to run...
8 years ago