Back on track

Right, I've rather let this whole "know thyself" project slide since getting back from The Netherlands.  So, here we go again:

Last night I rode home (cycling again, you see), made some supper, had a Belgian beer, noodled on the guitar, watched the Tour Of Spain stage, did my yoga, a few press-ups.  Hmm, it's not a career, is it?

The cycling is a major thing in my life and always has been really.  I didn't have a bike when I was a boy.  Actually, I did have one.  I inherited it from the boy next door when he'd outgrown it.  It was rust-coloured.  Well, it would be, being constituted primarily of iron oxide.  It also had two completely flat tyres.  I rode it anyway; I didn't care.  It only last one summer.  I would meet up with a gang of local urchins and ride along behind them, battling manfully, and failing, to keep up.

Why did I love bikes so much?  Plenty of children don't have bikes, and don't seem to mind the deprivation.  All I wanted was a bike though.  I never wanted a particular bike.  I did know I didn't want a road bike (a racer to you).  They always looked too susceptible to punctures to me.  And there's the point.  A bike was all about its utility.  The bike spelt f-r-e-e-d-o-m.  Born to a class that had none, that was important to me.  You didn't need a licence, fuel, tax, insurance.  As long as you had breath in your lungs, you could slip the limited boundaries of your mundane world, albeit briefly.  This simple machine gives wings to people who have nothing else.  That's why I loved it - love it still.

It's all become clear to me finally.

Thanks...you're a good listener, do you know that?