The mind is a strange beast; what goes in doesn’t always come back out; but the good news there is that if you don’t remember something, then doing it once more is like doing it for the first time all over again.
I suppose that’s the promise of advanced senility: every day is brand new; you can do the same thing repeatedly and never get bored.
Which is pretty much the program for Thursday night rides; now entering into my 20th different year of doing this, it still can be fresh; while I’m sure the route to Georgetown is one that I’ve taken before, it remains nevertheless remarkable not to have to take the bridge over the tracks—as far as I can recall, anyway.
Who knows what the new year will bring; perhaps a two-wheeled spin around the industrial heart of our fair city is a way of avoiding the inevitable; or maybe things will proceed pretty much as they always have, and I suppose that as long as you can keep on doing what you’ve been doing then there’s really not that much to complain or worry about, especially when the rain holds off until long after you’re home abed and the annoying sound emanating from your rear wheel that you thankfully diagnosed and treated never returned, making you fall in love with your bike all over again—the theme of the evening once more.
At this point, what’s behind is way more than what lies ahead, but that doesn’t weigh you down; it just creates a solid foundation for ascent. We are our histories, but we’re also our futures; where we’ve come from points the way to where we’re going.
Will there be beer in heaven? Will there be bikes? No one can say for certain, but surely it’s heavenly that they’re here now.