by 
I’ve been thinking more lately about cycling. About bicycles. About me. Actually riding bikes. I used to, you know. Once. Upon a time.
I rode them here, I rode them there. I rode them everywhere.
Now I sit and read law books, case briefs, learned treatises, horn books, commercial outlines, released bar questions, lecture notes. It is a path paved with the shattered hearts of fools.
What to do at this late hour, where, once again, the entire family has turned in save me wading through my readings? I need a break. A rest. Ah, a beer, perhaps? And a quick visit with the bikes in the garage? They sit, lean, hang, rest, and wait. For me. Always.
Hello girls. Hello jonny. Come in. How have you been? (So forgiving, never asking where I’ve been. Those accusations come on the first hill. But not tonight.) Run your fingers over me. Go ahead, it is all for you. The seat. The bars. The levers. The leather. The cork. The chromed steel. Oh, just a fleeting moment. A short respite before a return to the books. My heart sings! We have a history, you and I, do we not? We’ve been places. We’ve been through a lot. Yes, so much, so much.
The stories you could tell, you cunning little minx. But, those stories are ours. I won’t tell if you won’t.
I gave you years of my life. And I was glad to do it. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Good night, my sweet, good night.
by 
Amen. I took the singlespeed cross bike down the street for an ice cream tonight. We all need a break. The bike is always there.
I need to get a new bar for my SS winter beater. The flat bar I have just aint cutting it. Maybe even re-gear it for a bit more ooomph.
I’ll do that today, even.
…maybe.
Good to know I’m not the only one to enjoy the quiet beauty of a garage full of bikes. Societal empathy for a person who just gazes contentedly on a bevy of bicycles is sadly lacking. But not at DC.
You’ve been in my brain when I’ve been in my garage. That’s wicked cool. And maybe alittle creepy.
“Those accusations come on the first hill.” Burden of proof, indeed.
Just a little while longer. I was able to ride more my third year of law school than the previous seven years of working. So long as you are not overwhelmed with clinical work. Hope you can do the same.
Dude I feel you on this one and I think there is a certain drink we prefer, maybe a special song and dedicated stare to enjoying the garage full of bikes
There is hope, jonny. You’re almost half-way there, man. Keep the faith. If your bikes love you as much as you think they do, they’ll be there for ya. Mine waited all the way through law school for me. They’re like that; faithful and shit.
The shed has been completed as it was shingled yesterday. This will be the winter home for some of the quiver – Surly Big Dummy, Jamix Dakar and Intense 5.5. Special Ed Roubaix gets the warmth of the basement and time on the rollers. Fixed/free Schwinn roadie has been pulled into service for 8 more weeks of commuting to work. Fendered REI Navarro commuter bike will hang in the garage as my backup whip.
I love having choices but always seem to need one more than I have….
I feel you, between school and sleep all I can do is rest my eyes upon the perfect curves that should be outside in the world. Its all I want to do, all I ever want to do. Fuck life.
Been reading your blog for a while, but never posted. I remember sitting in law library like you, wondering if I made the biggest, most expensive mistake of my life. It felt like I had given up everything to be there, including my family, my friends and my soul and my passion for riding.
Now I am a third year attorney. I live in a great riding town, make enough cash to pay the bills and upgrade a part or two on occasion, and can, for the most part, set my own schedule. As a result, I ride more than ever. Just don’t lose your perspective in that place, and keep the rubber side down.
That was a very nice piece of writing.
-B