Ghosts

We climbed Green Mountain, then Dakota Ridge. Chris's rear derailleur cable was jacked, so we stopped at a bike shop. I wanted to tell the 15 year old kid working at the shop so many things and certainties about his future, but was instead vague. These certainties are known to me because he has the life I had 14 years ago. But he doesn't need those expectations. The shop mechanic got frustrated working on Chris's machine. I would have as well had it been me working in the shop. We left the shop in worse mechanical condition than we arrived, but continued the ride anyway. I grew tired of the route we were on for it was unknown to me and was not exciting. On a small, curvy downhill section, my heel went into my bike's rear wheel. Immediately, I knew what had happened. A spoke broken, and the others of insufficient quantity to hold her true. My goat would limp back; the more torque I placed on her rear wheel, the worse the wobble would be. But I finished that ride, climbed back to Green Mountain and back over the undulations of her rolling perimeter. I arrived at my truck, thankful for the good fortune I have had in my life and in particular the good fortune I experienced on this splendid Saturday.