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05-29-09, 06:43 AM
Hi,
I'm a 47 year-old man living in Downtown Manhattan, and was born and raised on Long Island. I retired 2 years ago even though I'm not rich. I finally have what I've been dreaming of for years and years: free time to do what I think is important and have some fun.
When I was 18, I was really into biking. I read cycling magazines (the Internet wasn't even a gleam in Al Gore's eye), tinkered with my 10-speed, explored the Island, and even trekked out to Montauk and back. I truly loved feeling so free.
Then, just like everybody else, I lived a normal, typical life that commandeered most of my leisure time. I went to college, went to law school, got a job, chased the buck, got married, worked hard, had kids, worked harder, got divorced, worked even harder, met my girlfriend, and then worked really, really hard. Moments were strung into hours, and days, which became months, and then years, and I kind of lost track of time. Every so often, however, in the midst of an especially noisy evening in the kitchen, I managed to take a short break from family life and have a quick Pabst in the garage. The old Motobecane's rusting frame would catch the corner of my eye, and a feint feeling of excitement would enter my psyche. Then I would remember the long rides starting out in the shade at Bethpage Park, the smell of just-cut lawns on the side streets of suburbia, the burning in my thighs, and the too-quick setting sun... and I would smile. But, just before I could hop on and not even look back and ride on forever, my wife would call me for dinner, or my daughter would ask for help with her homework, or my son would need a bath, or the phone would be for me. Not so bad a fate, after all. The bike could wait.
Now, I'm free again after almost 30 years, and I'm back with a vengeance. I just disassembled my cheap, clunky hybrid down to the last bolt, and am pimping my ride flat black and minimalist. I'm riding every morning at 5 am like some sort of insane milk man. And I'm a kid again. Who says that youth is wasted on the young?!
I'm looking forward to being here, and have to go now, because the sun is coming up and my Specialized is calling my name louder and louder.
Val
I'm a 47 year-old man living in Downtown Manhattan, and was born and raised on Long Island. I retired 2 years ago even though I'm not rich. I finally have what I've been dreaming of for years and years: free time to do what I think is important and have some fun.
When I was 18, I was really into biking. I read cycling magazines (the Internet wasn't even a gleam in Al Gore's eye), tinkered with my 10-speed, explored the Island, and even trekked out to Montauk and back. I truly loved feeling so free.
Then, just like everybody else, I lived a normal, typical life that commandeered most of my leisure time. I went to college, went to law school, got a job, chased the buck, got married, worked hard, had kids, worked harder, got divorced, worked even harder, met my girlfriend, and then worked really, really hard. Moments were strung into hours, and days, which became months, and then years, and I kind of lost track of time. Every so often, however, in the midst of an especially noisy evening in the kitchen, I managed to take a short break from family life and have a quick Pabst in the garage. The old Motobecane's rusting frame would catch the corner of my eye, and a feint feeling of excitement would enter my psyche. Then I would remember the long rides starting out in the shade at Bethpage Park, the smell of just-cut lawns on the side streets of suburbia, the burning in my thighs, and the too-quick setting sun... and I would smile. But, just before I could hop on and not even look back and ride on forever, my wife would call me for dinner, or my daughter would ask for help with her homework, or my son would need a bath, or the phone would be for me. Not so bad a fate, after all. The bike could wait.
Now, I'm free again after almost 30 years, and I'm back with a vengeance. I just disassembled my cheap, clunky hybrid down to the last bolt, and am pimping my ride flat black and minimalist. I'm riding every morning at 5 am like some sort of insane milk man. And I'm a kid again. Who says that youth is wasted on the young?!
I'm looking forward to being here, and have to go now, because the sun is coming up and my Specialized is calling my name louder and louder.
Val