Today, I was going to publish something I’ve been working on regarding how important it has been for me to be an observant person, and how observation is integral to my writing. I plan on publishing this later in the week, because I felt more like reflecting on an event that just occurred about twenty minutes ago while it was “fresh in my mind,” as they say.
This morning, I rode my bike to an undisclosed location (a house I'm going to be staying at for a few nights this summer) and it was lovely. My hair was down, the wind was flowing through, I felt like I was in a coming-of-age movie where the college teenager returns to their hometown and just thrives and has the most enlightening, exhilarating, emotional, summer of their life with probably a heterosexual relationship, breakup, and reunion mixed in there (I think I could do without that part, although I keep having dreams along these lines so who’s to say). I’m not sure why I was feeling so ethereal about 45 minutes after I woke up, but I was in the best mood I have been in for a minute. I became the person singing out loud while riding their bike and smiling at pedestrians and into tinted windows hoping they were smiling back, zigzagging through the streets. It’s warming up in Sacramento, which I despise especially since my body seems to be rejecting it even more than usual due to acclimating to cooler weather, but this morning was in the mid 70s and perfect. I even took some detours and looped around streets because I left a bit earlier than I needed to. All in all, it was just a lovely, sunny, ride. But nothing can ever be too simple.
I had one headphone in and was listening to my playlist titled Only Child (since the first song is Only Child by Tierra Whack). It is full of rap and R&B and songs that you have to make a conscious effort to be sad while listening to because they're inherently happy and upbeat. This morning was also the first time I’d ridden my bike in a while, and my kind father had just filled the tires for me, so it was a pretty effortless ride. I’ve had the same bike since middle school, and for the most part it has treated me well. I’ve taken a fair amount of falls but never gotten seriously injured, just scraped and bruised. I’ve rode around my neighborhood with friends for countless hours, and alone to fill summer days while friends are away. Since seventh grade, this mint green somewhat hideous bike has been my only mode of transportation and my escapism (hopefully that will change soon, but I sort of prefer it for now, as I find some joy in showing extra love to Ma Nature). The bike ride was almost two miles and sped by, through the neighborhood's shady streets. If you are at all familiar with Sacramento, you know of the 40s, a neighborhood full of beautiful big houses, wide streets shaded by looming green branches, and most importantly, the location of the iconic Ladybird house (I will probably write an entire article about this movie at some point but for now, I’ll just say it is one of my favorite films in the world, and the fact that it’s set where I grew up makes it mean so much more to me). I arrived at my destination in record time, as I think the music was speeding me up quite a bit, but I rode safely (don't worry mom and dad) and my fifteen minutes spent at my destination were pretty successful.
I came out of the house to find my gross little bike parked in the driveway. I kicked up the stopper, rolled it onto the sidewalk, and pedaled forward exactly once, immediately noticing something was wrong. I think I audibly said “oh, shit” when I realized I had forgotten to unlock my bike, and the cord was now completely entangled in my tires, and the chains of the bike. I sat on the sidewalk and proceeded to spend twenty minutes turning the bike wheel and messing with the gears, trying to get the lock in a position where I could put the code in and untangle the wire. Black oil was all over my hands, and I had conveniently chosen to wear an all white outfit (I know it sounds suspicious, but it was a good one). I made the mistake of itching my arm with my hand, immediately smearing oil onto my tank top. Two or three people biked by as I was on the ground trying to fix this bike so I could ride it home and get out of the heat for the rest of the day. It felt like they were rubbing their perfectly working bicycles in my face, and I was less than overjoyed. However, I continued listening to my Only Child playlist, which was the only thing that kept me from collapsing on the sidewalk and simply giving up until my shriveled body was found the next morning. After finally unlocking and untangling the cord, I got on my bike once again, ready to speed home and bask in air conditioning. It was 80 degrees now, and heating up quickly. I attempted to pedal forward, and had another “oh shit” moment, somehow an even worse one, when I realized my bike chain was completely loose. Time to walk!
I walked nearly two miles back to my house with my bike, and in the twenty eight minutes it took to get back inside it warmed up six degrees. I love Sacramento! (I think a lot of my experiences growing up here inspired me to study the environment, so I am grateful for that, but everything else not so much). However, for all of that time, I was blasting my playlist, and even though I was soaked in sweat and my face was slowly morphing into a cherry tomato, I felt slightly badass. More people rode their bikes past me and gave me some odd looks (I don’t blame them, it was probably a really perplexing image), and I just walked. This is a pretty mundane story, but the reason I felt like writing and reflecting on it is because less than a year ago, I would have reacted so much differently to this situation. I probably would have immediately broken down in panic and called my parents for help (which is probably a more rational response from some perspectives). And when all this went down, I definitely complained to myself, and told a friend what was happening just because sometimes, it feels so good to complain, and to be angry.
But, the past year has given me the ability to put things in perspective so much more than I used to be able to, and I knew that although this was going to suck for about an hour, it wasn’t going to change the trajectory of my life for the worse or influence the people around me negatively. I was going to make it, injury-free, just a hell of a lot of sweat. But I was going to come back to an empty, air-conditioned home, the home I have lived in for my whole life, and I was going to lie on the floor of my childhood room and drink water and turn the fan on high until I cooled down. I was going to go to the kitchen sink and splash water all over my face and neck until I was cold. I was going to chew on ice, I was going to fix my bike, and eventually, I’d have a brand new one. I was going to be so, very okay.
-B
Melting in the heat but we persist!!!!
Love you so very much. Proud of your grit.