Aldo,
What a nice piece you have written. I grew up in Boulder, Montana which is a little cow town in Western Mont., and my first real bike was a Hiawatha for Christmas more than 50 years ago. "First night ride of a new winter" took me back to the sound of snow crunching under my tires, the sight of snow flakes drifting down through the glow of the street light, the bitter cold. It all came back.
Thank you.
Pat Moffat in warm and sunny Tempe, AZ
-----Original Message----- From: Aldo Ross <swampmtn@siscom.net> Sent: Dec 16, 2003 7:29 AM To: classicrendezvous@bikelist.org Subject: [CR]first night ride of a new winter
first night ride of a new winter layer upon layer of knitted wool (on top of yet another layer) three tiers of wool? it's one of those nights
pellegrino orange seeking warmth, snuggling against italian blue gloves nestled one inside another like a fuzzy knit matryoshka doll
no cozy warmth for the bike smoked chrome displays a fresh fog bare metal so cold, your tongue would stick components creak in the sudden chill
first few turns, find the pedals with overgrown blue fuzzy shoes arms and legs have limited motion too many sleeves, wool stuck to wool
padded like a fat autumn bear ready for hibernation no air penetrates to the skin no way to judge the speed
ears covered, sounds muffled helmet filled with windless silence a slightly lanolin scent inside this space ship of wool
stop for a quick adjustment gloves off, hands on icy metal parts cold as an arctic chihuahua in space, no one hears you shiver
rolling again, out toward the edge of town where the glowing gray clouds turn black without city lights to illuminate them dark and deep space
a reassuring white oval of light around the front wheel flashing red tail light like an interstellar pulse jet
a tiny island of light among the frozen blackness cows watch silently from black-green fields turning brown grass over and over again
coasting beneath the trees and powerlines beneath the owls beneath the first gentle snow atoms of ice against my face
and all the time - silence no tire noise on asphalt no chain noise through the cogs no shift noise from derailleurs
shifting by feel instead of by sound finding these old components again learning to sence without touching through too many gloves
the familiar tug of momentum against my body when applying the brakes keeps me from locking the wheels
a hill, a shift a slight knock as the chain finds the gear like assemblying a jigsaw puzzle in boxing gloves
spokes sparkling in the oval of yellowish light hub logo turning over and over rim so smooth and round hypnotic motion in the quiet night
these parts are all older than most of the racers I know these bearings where made by men now retired, or departed
quiet and dark, time is ideal to reflect on this bike, these parts this night, this ride a beautiful bike unseen in the night
ragged gray sky aglow over the city lights again on by side of the road sound is visible as the traffic increases time to take this spaceship home
Aldo Ross
Middletown, Ohio