There's a man who rides a bike., every day, it's his only means of transportation. Every day. Whether it's a beautiful sunny day or it's snowing, this man unlocks his bike every morning and rides. He locks it up near my apartment. Sometimes I park near the stop sign he uses to keep his bike safe. I see him locking it up and I'm curious why. It "gets me where I needs to go" is what I imagine he'd say if I ever asked. He's confident in that, if nothing else.
I pretend he's a traveling man, he spent his youth riding around the country trying to "find himself". The miles he rode can be seen in the lines on his face. He is full of stories and life. I tell myself that he probably has something to teach me. I make up his stories and tell them to myself, searching for the lesson.
" Once upon a time on one of his rides, he met a girl. She was young and beautiful and she stole his heart, as pretty girls are apt to do. He'd tell people that when he saw her the world stopped and he couldn't move from that spot. For the first time in his life he found something he could be still for. A small town life and a beautiful wife. He bought her yellow lilies on her birthday because they were her favorites. He always got a kiss and a smile in return. He lived for her kisses and gratefully accepted them as payment. She was perfect, or at the very least perfect for him and his need for travel slowly faded. In time, the bike began to rust and fall apart. It had carried him to her, for which he was thankful, but he didn't need it any longer. He was home.
As all things in life, this too came to an end. Some say that she took ill, others that she left for another man. No one knows, it's another story, one he doesn't like to tell. Whatever the cause, he realized that his home hadn't been the house he lived in with her, it had been her. He felt that familiar feeling, the need to move, to find himself once more. He found the bike, his bike, and brushed off the dust. He spent the spring bringing his bike back to life. When the day was long and the weather warm he left, his life on his back, the future in front of him and the past slowly fading away behind him. The bike had carried him to her and now it helped him leave it all behind."
I like to think about him like that. A man forever tied to the road, a strong man whose lived through the happiest and saddest days in his life and come out the other side. Bruised, but alive.
One day, we get home at the same time. He locks his bike in his usual place and walks across the street. I watch him as he walks away, curious. He crosses to the tree next to the house across the street and settles in for the night. No home to speak of any more. I watch him and I think "there's a lesson in there, I know it"
