|
|
Beware: the underground
is calling.
|
| On a cool and hazy
day in December there was this place covered by a fine layer of sleep, dust, and
darkness. surrounded by a dull mesh of chain link standing sentry, barely
silencing the call from within. |
| You can, if you listen, hear perfect pieces of
steel and masonite. hear the soft click of a freewheel, smell the worn elastic
of knee pads. I hear something too, but it is just my stomach, or maybe my alarm
clock. maybe it's a week of work, or school. now it is 9:30 on Friday night, and
I hear something else too. |
| Tomorrow, the fine layer of sleep, dust and darkness
will be ripped away. at 10:01am, I will hear the first sweet sound of steel on
steel as 2 four inch pegs carry a perfectly balanced 200+ pounds of bike and
rider smoothly across the lip of a six foot mini ramp. |
|
The underground is calling
|
| Through the whole day as an improvised symphony of riders cross paths, each
looking for that second of weightlessness, the moment of perfect ability, and
the short time where self-preservation depends on fooling gravity and physics
into thinking that you really can ride away from your current vantage point,
which happens to be about 10 feet above the ground. |
| Somehow I gain faith in
humans again as people I have never met shout encouragement at my short moments
of perfection. I gain faith in myself again by helping a young, intimidated guy
learn how to grind and truing a wheel for his friend. |
|
Often, I need to force
myself to stop and rest, to drink water. my body is starting to loose it's
effectiveness, but I push it because the call is loud now, gravitational, as my
legs cramp, and shoulders ache. still searching for what it feels like to be on
the moon, still wanting to feel that just right hook-up of pegs and coping,
still needing to escape for just as long as I can.
|
|
But finally...strength goes
away, and I have to stop. exhaustion leads to injury and that is not an option at
this point. there will be rest and sleep...the underground will still call, and
the next time the lock comes off the chain-link, I will be there.
|
|
|