Conference noted::bicycle

775.0. "The Night Ride" by BRAT::SMITH (Never say never, I always say.) Sat Jul 16 1988 11:52

   	 (Writing style inspired by Matt Johnson's Italian Diary)
    
        I got home Saturday evening about 12:30am from a friend of 
        mine's house. I was puttering around, just thinking about the 
        day's events, but more so about what I was going to do Sunday, 
        if anything. It had been fairly hot that day, but seemed much 
        cooler now. In fact, it seemed like a good time to go for a 
        bike ride, with the temperature feeling like it was down into 
        the 70's, after a stifling, humid, upper 90's afternoon. It was 
        after 1am now, so the traffic would certainly be light. (I 
        don't know if you're familiar with Manchester at all, but I 
        live on Calef Road. I live on the south end of it, where it's 
        very wide, and has no intersecting roads on the west side of 
        it, because there is a very large cemetery there). I changed 
        into my standard summer bicycling attire of shorts, shoes, and 
        socks. I mounted my loyal chrome-moly steed, and proceeded to 
        pedal my way out onto the pavement. Excellent, no traffic in 
        sight. I had the road all to myself. It was very still. With no 
        car or airplane noise to be heard, it was much more serene then 
        during the day. Even Mother Nature was tranquil, with the birds 
        asleep and the wind nothing more than a very gentle breeze. 
        Overhead, however, the clouds formed a thick, gray blanket, 
        being carried along by a brisk air-mass, apparently well above 
        the earth's surface. Occasionally, a bit of light from the moon 
        would appear through a thinner section of the mostly dense 
        cloud cover. As I weaved gradually back and forth over the 
        entire width of the road, the prominent sound was that of my 
        tires, fighting to maintain their ever-important grip on the 
        pavement. As I would approach the area of light under the 
        orange-hued, mercury-vapor street lamps, the rapidly changing 
        angle of light would cause the illuminated upper and shadowed 
        lower portions of the bike to rotate smoothly over its curved 
        surfaces. And my own distorted shadow on the road would quickly 
        overtake me as I passed underneath the street light. As I'm 
        approaching just the right speed, the individual knobs of my 
        tires become visible, as they slowly rotate to a stop, as I hit 
        the precise speed for the stroboscopic effect of the street 
        light to freeze the motion of my tire. I speed up a little 
        more, and they start to rotate in the opposite direction as 
        before. Just like the spokes of the stagecoach wheels! Here 
        comes a car. I ride up the curb, onto the oversized sidewalk. 
        There it goes. I decide to ride on the sidewalk for awhile. No 
        pedestrians to worry about. The curb is on one side of me, and 
        the 6-foot chain-link fence that surrounds the cemetery is on 
        the other. As I look into the cemetery, I see the silhouettes 
        of tree-tops against the somewhat brighter sky. The gravestones 
        closest to the fence are quite visible from the street lights, 
        but beyond, they fade into the darkness. Almost a little 
        spooky. I don't see any ghosts, but they're probably not 
        visible to mortals anyway. I wouldn't want to see one now 
        anyway, since I don't have my camera with me. :-) I decide to 
        head home, as I'm beginning to feel the effects of a tiring 
        day. Here comes another vehicle. A high-riding pickup truck 
        with fat tires. I'm still on the sidewalk, but when he gets 
        along side of me, he lays on the horn. That startles the hell 
        out of me, which I feel certain was what he wanted to do. I 
        hope you run into a bridge abutment, you f**king asshole! Why 
        is it that some people seem to derive pleasure from irritating 
        others? He's probably the only sub-human around for miles, but 
        he has to run across me. Oh, well, at least he kept on going. I 
        ride a little longer, to dissipate the anger, then head home. I 
        rinse off in the shower, then lie down, to quickly fall asleep, 
        as my conscious mind shuts-down for the remainder of the night. 

								   Mike
    

    
     That is very pleasant note....
    
    
     I've often wondered what it would be like to take a nice ride in
    the early morning hours....now I know....
    
                                              Tom M