Riding is often the
highlight of an otherwise uneventful day, and especially this winter I’ve been
enjoying my rides with maximum pleasure in knowing that I’m beating the weather
at its own game and riding my ass off in December, January, and February,
months during which I’m sometimes grounded for many weeks on end with snow and
ice on the ground. While I always enjoy
my rides, I’ve had some of the very best lately, not because I’ve gone anywhere
significantly grand, but simply because I’m getting time in on the bike that I
wouldn’t normally get.
Now when I’m out there on
two wheels, I’m just about in the happiest mood I’m in for a day. There’s
something exhilarating about any ride, even if it’s just around the corner to
drop something off at my Mom’s or to cruise mindlessly about the neighborhood
for the sake of being out on the scooter.
I often imagine that drivers who are going past me in the opposite
direction are envious of the joyful look on my face because I’m sure that my
grin is always lighting up what might already be a day full of sunshine.
Because of that amazing
happiness, joy, glee, or whatever it might best be called I’ve always imagined
my face when I’m out on the scooter to be beaming with a huge smile. I can feel my smile muscles tightening
sometimes so much that all I can think of is my mom saying, “If you keep making
that face it’s going to stay that way.” In the case of a scooter smile, though,
that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Or
so I thought when I decided to mount the newest camera in my arsenal on the
windshield of the scooter where it would snap a picture of my delightful smile
every 30 seconds.
When I get to the end of
my street and hang a left I’m immediately at the beginning of a wooded stretch
of road that connects my city with the next town. Although it’s posted at 25 mph, most cars take it at around 45
mph, although occasional scooter riders have been known to do it at 65 or
better because it’s a bit like a quick ride on a roller coaster with a few
twists and a couple of dips and rises as it meanders through the woods and back
into civilization about three quarters of a mile later. Surely the grin would be from ear to ear on
my face as I made my way through there.
Guess again. The camera suggested that perhaps I’d lost
my best friend rather than have started out on a day that allowed me to enjoy
my ride in only a light jacket.
A little ways up takes me
past the street on which my best friend lived when we were in high school, and
onto which I made a left turn thousands of times between ’72 and ’76. He lives in Boston now, but hardly a day
goes by when we don’t share some of the details of our days with each other in
an e-mail or two. Surely my face would be lit up like a veritable Christmas
tree while passing there! Nope. I looked like a damned funeral director with
that somewhat sympathetic yet stoic face that each of them must practice in a
mirror for at least an hour a day.
Now, mind you, as I rode
and knew that the camera was dutifully capturing my smiles I was extra
conscious of the look on my face and was deliberately giving it that shit
eating grin that I’m always convinced is on my face when I’m riding. I have no idea why the camera was doing such
a lousy job of capturing my joie de vivre, but it wasn’t even coming close.
The longer and farther I
rode the happier I was in thinking of the light hearted post that was going to
come from those pictures showing my 1,000 watt smiles. With no view finder or screen on the camera
itself there was no way of stopping on occasion to see just how much of my
happiness was showing, so on I rode just grinning all the way because I was
enjoying myself to the max and giving what I just knew were my very best smiles
to the camera.
Dear heavens! A scowl even appeared to be on my face at
times. How could my smiling muscles be
betraying me so much?
All I can think by way of
explanation for why EVERY single one of the pictures of my face show me as less
than thrilled is that the seriousness of being hyper attentive to my
surroundings – the condition of the road, the actions of other drives, the
movements of other vehicles around me, potential obstacles in my path – is on
my face more than the fun I’m feeling.
And if that’s the case, it’s not so bad. I’d rather know that I’m taking the serious precautions that need
to be taken when one isn’t in the protective covering afforded by a car and is
much more vulnerable to the effects of any accident that might be just around
the next corner, cause I’d rather get back from my ride with a miserable puss
than to die with a big smile on my face that won’t necessarily be a sure ticket
at the pearly gates.
