Poetic Observations • 4

love is the every only god

who spoke this earth so glad and big
even a thing all small and glad
man,may his mighty briefness dig

for love beginning means return
seas who could sing so deep and strong

one queerying wave will whitely yearn
from each last shore and home come young

so truly perfect the skies
by merciful love whispered were,
completes its brightness with your eyes

any illimitable star

65
By e. e. cummings

Epic Moments From My Life as a Veloist • 1951-1959

My very first memory of bicycles was when I couldn’t have been more than three or so. My father had, like most soldiers from the beginning of human history, brought home some ‘things I found’ - loot - from Europe, one being a bare-bones French touring bike.     And I remember him hoicking me up onto a small red cushion or pad fastened to the top of the handlebar stem, facing forward, knees and feet dangling in front of the bars, and holding me with one hand as we rode around in whatever neighborhood it was. I felt like I was flying. It was wonderful, and I'm so grateful I was able to experience it, because now of course he and my mom would have been arrested   on child endangerment charges and put in a home with padded walls and no candy and certainly no comic books or rock n' roll music.

   When I was about five years old. The old man planted me on the seat of a miniature two-wheeler in the middle of a big front lawn       of thick grass, showed me how to grip the handlebars and put my sneakers on the pedals, and gently pushed me on my way. When I   fell almost immediately, I don’t recall that it was any big deal – the grass cushioned it and the ones that followed, and before much time had passed I was happily wobbling all over the place. (1)

   At twelve, while going down at a hill at too high a speed, I lost my balance and ended up on my stomach sliding across the asphalt, hands and arms stretched out before me like a swimmer, for about twenty feet. Long sleeves and jeans managed to protect me from everything except some vivid bruises, but my palms were badly scraped, and after they healed a tiny piece of stone remained embedded at the very base of my right hand. It remained there         for another forty years, a reminder to me that being a smart ass -     on a bike or otherwise - doesn't usually pay off. (2)


(1) A perfect example of life to come: While learning, you fail; failing, you pick yourself up off the deck and try again; repeat as needed until you succeed. Little did I realise what I was in for.

(2) This was before helmets, knee-pads, gloves. It was also   before whining to your parents and friends. I picked myself up and limped home and cleaned my wounds. Other than one of my brothers asking me what had happened - we had an almost ghoulish interest in each other’s misfortunes – it was not remarked upon.

Hydration on the Playground

News today that public schools in the US are bringing back water fountains to their playgrounds, so that kids might lay off the soft drinks. My immediate reaction was not puzzlement that the fountains had been removed or disabled in the first place, but rather, a vivid memory of standing more or less patiently in line to get a drink just before recess ended, watching classmates slurp the non -oxygenated and -electrolyte water as impatient warnings of "No cuts!" went up and down the line, and those taking too long to drink being barraged with the sarcastic reminder "Save some for the fishes!"

The Silver Veloist 2 • Catagories

Buying a bicycle or replacing one with another can be a daunting task. The variety and quality of machines is much better than it was only, say, twenty years ago, never mind the stone age when I was a kid. But that also means that targeted marketing can make the process of buying a bicycle far more confusing than it need be.
   To me, most bikes are general-purpose - that is, even though they may be advertised for use only in certain circumstances, they usually can meet a variety of needs. Thus many mountain bikes are also used on flat terrain for cruising; touring bikes are often used for daily shopping runs; and racing machines are employed for commuting.
   Some bike are made from expensive, high-tech materials and cost thousands and thousands of dollars. Others are made out of aluminum or steel with basic components, and are priced under 500 dollars. There are three-wheelers, or recumbents. Some models are mass-manufactured in factories, and others are hand-built in runs of several dozen.
   Faced with all this, I suggest is that you think about what role bicycling is going to play in your life. When you've made a decision, you might want to talk with other veloists about their choices.
   Visit bicycle shops in your area, and search the internet, to see what meets your criteria. But most importantly, choose the type of riding that meets your needs, and do your best to ignore the attitude that one kind of cycling is better than another. If you have any questions, please contact me through this blog. Have fun, and safe riding!

My Noble Horse

This is the bicycle I've had for over twelve years. One of the models designed by the Gary Fisher company, it has been thoroughly customized by me, the most drastic modification being the handle-bars and the addition of a cargo rack. These photos were taken in 2015.

Called a Nirvana, it's been my sole form of transportation for that entire time. In any given year I've used it for at least 340 days. A conservative estimate of how far I've ridden it stands at approxi-mately 12,500 miles. Not bad for an initial purchase price of $450. Add the cost of replacement parts and modifications and repairs - a bit over $1,000 - and the yearly outlay of $120 seems pretty reason-able, especially for the amount of sheer pleasure it's given me.

The Silver Veloist

I'm terribly keen on everyone using bicycles as much as possible, especially older folks (and for the record, I'm 67). We need the exercise, and we need a kind of exercise that runs the gamut from comfortable and easy on the body, to a bit more of a workout for losing the flab that seems as determined to accrete on us as barnacles do on the hull of a boat, to the mercifully rare moments when we are frightened into a heightened state of consciousness even as we ride our way out of a seat on the next celestial express. Too many of us who are capable of being excellent veloists (1), instead settle for being another four-limbed pudding-pop strapped into an elaborate machine that will soon become a kind of self-controlled floaty chair (2). I urge as many of you as possible to take up cycling, and to that end I'm going to post some information on the subject to help you get started.

1 A snazzy French synonym for bicyclists.
2 A kind of personal transportation in the brilliant movie Wall-E. Highly recommended.

Poetic Observations 3

From Bill Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes:

Calvin: "Hobbes, what do you think happens to us when we die?"
(Hobbes contemplates the question for a moment.)
Hobbes:  "I think we play saxophone for an all-girl cabaret in New Orleans."
Calvin: "So you believe in heaven?"
Hobbes: "Call it what you like."