I been doing some serious thinking. Yes sometimes even the silliest do that. I have tried to stop because the gears upstairs don't get as much oil pumped to them like when I was a young lean machine. Seems like only yesterday I was day dreaming in class and the bell would wake me up to go to another class. I absolutely looved school until the seventh grade then many things seem to hit, all around the same time wrecking havoc on my learning. It was no longer about learning, but about survival, getting my diploma. Up until that point it was a child eager to learn. Then when a young man comes about, well things look different somehow. My imagination was still active but I felt as though a man with adult thinking overriding a child's simplistic views of life. I won't go into the details but as I look back at the turning point I did change.
I question myself tonight as I take my Sunday AM ride. It's mid seventies with a light southern breeze a good night to ride, enjoy, ponder. Why at this ungodly hour would a normal man be out. Well I won't go into all the particulars, I find solitude, in between the 'late nighter's' heading home from wherever. The early morning weekend crowd such as boaters, weekend travelers and such are preparing for a day of leisurely splashing the breaking of the water upon their faces during noon times of ninety degrees. Families taking summer trips or picnicking whatever.
The in between time I feel as one with the earth. Makes no difference if it's a harvest moon or total darkness, for a fraction of time the world seems all mine. I drive upon the same roads I once traveled as a thirteen year old riding his trusty Schwinn bicycle. I rode that trusty steed for many years everywhere. My black stallion, whether going to school, to a weekend movie at the only movie house in town or passing my paper route, making a few dollars. You see if it wasn't for that basic black old Schwinn bicycle my dreams, my imagination would surely be curtailed a plenty. A trusted companion of many, many years that never let me down, even though I looked upon a beautiful shiny red riding pony of which I did buy on payments at the local B. F, Goodrich Store. My grandpa co-signed for me. I rode that red beauty with built in battery headlights, it was the Cadillac or Lincoln automobile for a young man. I did not ride it to the movies for fear someone would steal it. I did not ride it to school for the same reason. It was my weekend ride so to speak, I kept it in the garage. Everyday my trusty Schwinn was the workhouse, I fixed many a flat tire on my daily rider, carried a tire repair kit on my Schwinn. In them days there were service stations every where, so I would walk to the station for free air and lickety split me and 'Rusty Trusty' never missed a gallop. Through all kinds of weather be it below zero, ninety plus degrees, wind, hail, rain. The Postal Service could not out do me. I paid for my weekend rider, seems no longer than I paid that red thing of beauty off, it began falling apart. Didn't seem fair somehow, my grandpa died, my beautiful Challenger shiny red bicycle with white sidewall tires was disintegrating before my eyes. Learning was no longer fun, I found solace in the movie theatre, reading books, riding my favorite trusty Rusty black bicycle whom never let me down. I traded that shiny red rider bicycle one day for the newest fad, a banana seated one. Why? I don't know, just couldn't stand the sight of that red bicycle no more!
AIN'T IT FUNNY HOW A EARLY AM RIDE AT 4 IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY CAN BRING BACK MEMORIES FORGOTTEN OR SUPPRESSED ENABLING ONE TO GET ON WITH LIFE. AIN'T IT FUNNY, BUT SOMETIMES MEMORIES SERVE A PURPOSE REMEMBERING THE SIMPLE, PURE, REWARDING, TIMES SOMEHOW. THAT'S WHY I FEEL MYSELF AT A TIME OF THE NIGHT MOST ARE DREAMING, I ALSO HAVE AWAKE DREAMS THAT STILL LINGER AFTER 47 YEARS. AIN'T FORGOTTEN TIMES PRECIOUS AND FEW, SOMETIMES!!! Glen