Riding Ghosts

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestmailby feather
D2's Saddle
D2’s Saddle

That tree branch hangs just low enough that I can grab onto it when I ride beneath it. Then I can pull myself up and let the bike ghost ride into the lawn. It’s the most fun I can have by myself, a lonely kid in a lonely neighborhood full of adults. I do this over and over again until my hands are black from the tree’s bark, and dirt is jammed into the ends of my handlebars.

Then, when I can’t do one more tree branch pull-up, I sit in the grass as the sun sets, watching the light hit my bicycle. I don’t know it then, that this two-wheeled hunk of metal and its friends will be with me throughout my life. I don’t know how many sunsets I’ll see just like this one, some suns sinking over the New England trees and others over the long desert horizon of Arizona. I don’t know it then and that’s a blessing, because part of the joy of it is the surprise, the way the light looks every time it falls over a steel frame, a round wheel, a black tire. I think for a moment that I could hop on that bike and ride the sun itself…

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestmailby feather

About D2

I am a writer and a photographer. I never killed a man in Reno, but I once rode a bike through a casino in Vegas. Bikes are cool, huevos rancheros are for breakfast, whiskey is for dinner. Denver, Colorado, USA

9 Replies to “Riding Ghosts”

  1. I’ll drink to that.

    Bottoms up, currently enjoying a sunny post ride beer before seeing Lewis Black at the Hershey Theater. I’ll be drinking one for all of you at the Tröegs Brewrey before hand as well. The sun will be setting then.