In his masterpiece The Varieties of Religious Experience, American Pragmatist philosopher William James writes: “Sobriety diminishes, discriminates and says no; drunkenness expands, unites, and says yes. It is in fact the great exciter of the Yes function in man.”
Combine that with bicycling and you’ve got a double-yes; add a bonfire on an abandoned highway somewhere deep within the industrial outskirts of a mid-sized metropolis, throw in half a hundred featherless bipeds including a handful just visiting for fun, stir with a mild spring night on which the predicted rain showers never developed, and it’s like, “Yes, yes, yes, yes yes!” Really. Yes.
Even the West Seattle Low-Level drawbridge operators gave their assent to the proceedings, waiting, contrary to their traditional wont, until the entire group crossed over before closing the gates to open the span for a passing barge. This made for an especially festive re-group at the usual spot and was probably part of the reason why there was a minimum of grumbling even though the subsequent route along the Duwamish included an abrupt about-face due to a loop that didn’t.
The gas station mini-mart operator was nervous about his bathroom key but still managed to survive our massive provisioning which included three, count ‘em, three containers of Girl Scout water, all of which, not surprisingly, were used (and misused) up before the night was out.
No one died or fell over on the tricky ascent along and across the scary highway and only one BMW driver decided to be more annoyed than he needed to be.
There’s something especially gratifying about sourcing one’s fuel at the site and the recent relatively dry weather made that relatively easy—aided, of course, by the aforementioned petroleum-based accelerant.
Fred said yeah to boiling a beer can or two of the stuff; a junked shopping cart consented to a moment of flaming glory; and most agreed that leaving early was slower than staying late; yes, yes, yes indeed.
Combine that with bicycling and you’ve got a double-yes; add a bonfire on an abandoned highway somewhere deep within the industrial outskirts of a mid-sized metropolis, throw in half a hundred featherless bipeds including a handful just visiting for fun, stir with a mild spring night on which the predicted rain showers never developed, and it’s like, “Yes, yes, yes, yes yes!” Really. Yes.
Even the West Seattle Low-Level drawbridge operators gave their assent to the proceedings, waiting, contrary to their traditional wont, until the entire group crossed over before closing the gates to open the span for a passing barge. This made for an especially festive re-group at the usual spot and was probably part of the reason why there was a minimum of grumbling even though the subsequent route along the Duwamish included an abrupt about-face due to a loop that didn’t.
The gas station mini-mart operator was nervous about his bathroom key but still managed to survive our massive provisioning which included three, count ‘em, three containers of Girl Scout water, all of which, not surprisingly, were used (and misused) up before the night was out.
No one died or fell over on the tricky ascent along and across the scary highway and only one BMW driver decided to be more annoyed than he needed to be.
There’s something especially gratifying about sourcing one’s fuel at the site and the recent relatively dry weather made that relatively easy—aided, of course, by the aforementioned petroleum-based accelerant.
Fred said yeah to boiling a beer can or two of the stuff; a junked shopping cart consented to a moment of flaming glory; and most agreed that leaving early was slower than staying late; yes, yes, yes indeed.
No comments:
Post a Comment