The Bicycle Comes From God

The bicycle is a love-gift from God.  Whether a frightened kid, a lonely teenager or a beaten-down adult, misery and bike riding are simply incompatible. 

Hibriten Mountain keeps watch over Lenoir, NC, where I grew up.  The summer before I went to college, I rode my old coaster bike to the foot of the mountain and as far up the winding roads as I could.  Whenever necessary I got off and pushed.  At the top, I climbed the fire tower for a lordly view of my city lying at the foothills of the Blue Ridge.  It was a great day.

This simple machine remains today much the same as it always has been.  But life is different on a bike.  I rode my bike into Neuschwanstein Castle courtyard.  I glided all over Munich when I visited my friend, Ed.  I pedaled the streets of Chicago and its Lake Michigan shores when I lived there.  I pay attention to the traffic, to the rules of the road.  But I am mentally far away from any cares. 

Recently, I bought Barbara an adult trike.  She loves it.  We leave her Alzheimer’s disease at home when we go for a spin through the neighborhood.  The three wheels give her security.  Normally Barb doesn’t remember things we’ve done.  But she brings up the bike ride for hours.

Surely heaven abounds with bicycle paths.  –lg

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