Heartache Comes in Many Bike Forms, So Does Happiness

This is Denim, aka, my Honda Metro scooter which I rode almost daily from 2004-2006. I miss it terribly. I knew that the day would come when I wouldn't be able to ride it anymore but that thought would only reinforce the pleasure I would feel every time I was on it. Very often, I carried passengers on Denim. Many of my friends would demand that I pick them up on Denim. Many incoming texts would read, 'You picking me up on Denim? Not Daisy, Denim, ok?' And, of course, I complied.

At the time I owned Denim, I also owned a little Volkswagen pick-up. The Volkswagen's name was Daisy and Daisy had orange leather interior and bright yellow exterior. Daisy was happy. It, however, did not get to see much of me as my love affair with Denim didn't diminish in intensity till the last day. And, I suppose, I was a one-vehicle-type-of-person then.

So, I rode Denim and my passengers, usually taller guys and a few taller girls would ride along. It was quite a sight. I loved every second of Denim. I was known as 'scooter girl' and I dug it. Then it was time to move to another state on account of my career and it was time to part ways with Denim. It's been four years and I still miss Denim terribly.

The reason why I'm walking down memory lane at this point is because I experienced another hard toy-related experience this week. It does have a happy ending, however. In the beginning of the week, I thought I'd lost my oh-so-very-special i.e., costly Specialized Hard Rock Pro. As I was telling Camille, one of the worst things about being a hyper person and doing a lot of things in one day is having a bit of a tough time recalling every single activity of one's quotidianity. I suppose that's why I kind of like Twitter. It does sort of journal what one does, in a way. But I digress.

After coming back from the trails, I seemed to have gotten carried away by my other daily tasks and didn't put the Specialized back in the garage. So, I resigned myself to the thought that, well, there goes another thing that I lost of account of my nature. It's a bad feeling having things taken away. It's an even worse feeling to lose things you love a lot. And I've already had another Specialized share the same destiny in the past. When I lose things, I can't help but wonder that I somehow lacked some appreciation of them while I, well, had them. The thing is, I'm truly appreciative of the stuff I own. I'm a minimalist, for the most part, and that which I do own is purchased after some measure of thought. One thing I tend to object to is baggage as I like to be as light as I can when I live and travel.

Below see some footage of me gushing over the awesomeness that was my Specialized. It dawned on me during the beginning of the week that the only time I felt like this was when I had my other Specializes stolen and when I parted ways with Denim. The thing is, losing stuff hurts. It hurts a lot. But what can one do? Granted, everyone takes a loss once in a while, and some perhaps more than others. Losses do also serve a pretty didactic purpose. They teach one, mid-pain, to devour the present more slowly.

For an avid biker, I sure have lousy luck, as my friend Liam says. With bikes, that is. Generally, I'm the type who picks myself up by the bootstrap and doesn't spend time on whining. Actually, another thing I greatly object to is whining. I believe in coming from a place of 'yes' and being dedicated to solutions instead of focusing on problems. Few things manage to get my stomach tied in a knot the way property losses and damages can, though. I love to bike. Biking has always made me feel happy. Plus, it's such a tease to live in an area where you're surrounded by beautiful mountain trails and the beach and they're all saying in unison, 'get on the bike and come see us. We know you want to....'

And thus it was during the first part of the week. Till last night, that is. As I was talking to a friend of mine who's coming to visit me for a bit, I had another call waiting on my other line. They had found my Specialized. A wonderful gentleman saw it and took it to the Lost and Found because it looked too expensive and he thought the owner would suffer much on account of its absence. Boy, was he right! So, I put my visiting friend on hold and told him that the Specialized had to come first. I made arrangements to retrieve it and this morning we got to spend some time together again. All is well with the word.

Biking is truly a way of life. Even though I enjoy driving, granted more so in the West than anywhere, biking is one of those activities that lifts you up right away. And if it's done on a Specialized, then, consider my creativity enhanced. So, tonight, the tip of my Bob Marley hat goes to honest people who see a costly Specialized and turn in it to make the owner's day.

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