A Gem of a Bike Ride on a February Day…

When I awaken early on a February morning in Rhode Island, I’m not thinking bike ride.

I’m thinking warm socks, fleece sweatshirt, flannel sweatpants and my hands wrapped around a mug of hot coffee.

But as the sun began to rise and peek into our windows his past Monday, I couldn’t help but notice this…

The loveliness and still of a June morning, it seemed, and the bike path down there at the end of the fence.

Calling.

A bike ride morning.

I shook off the feeling of June. I had to. I had too much work to do in the morning and lots of afternoon things to do with my Mom.

And anyway, my bike was buried somewhere in the garage.

I pounded away at my work, my fingers dancing along my laptop while all along thinking, thinking Jack Kerouac and this…

“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.”

So I closed my laptop, dug through my bike gear, found my bicycle ass pants as I call them, and all the other stuff I needed to ride that goddamn bike on this gem of a February morning…

And stopped for many minutes just to watch the quahoggers digging for their own gems in the lowest of tides. It was mesmerizing to me…

Climbing my own sort of goddamn mountain on the most perfect gem of a February day…

Until next time.

Because I did get my work done.

I did spend a wonderful afternoon and evening with my Mom…

And all the better for Jack Kerouac whispering in my brain.