My husband's bike tire is flat and he has an appointment with a friend to hit dimpled balls. I walk the flat tire to Open Road for Ed, the bike magician, to fix. He looks like a literature professor with his shock of white hair and glasses on the tip of his nose. He peers at the tire and begins to take tiny piece of glass out of it with a special implement that resembles a darning needle. He kids me about hanging out behind bars.Into the shop comes a friend who needs to have her seat raised so that her knees will not be hurt as she prepares for the MS-150, an 80 mile ride. She did it years ago and now wants to try again.
When Ed hands me back the tire, I walk out and take a side trip to a friend's garden. It is an urban oasis complete with a poetry kiosk. They have friends from out of town staying with them and all of them are roasting coffee beans in a popcorn popper. Four kinds of beans from four different parts of the world. The house smells like a Starbucks.
Going home I find my friend outside her home considering an entirely new bike. She is sitting on it fingering the price tag.We look at her new landscaping and I walk on.Suddenly, I hear my name. Across the street a former student is standing with his daughter. He tells me he has just returned from Maine where he met another former student of mine. The man he mentions was in my class almost forty years ago but still remembers me fondly. The fact that he remembers me causes me to smile.
I head on home. Once again, because I have not been in my car, I have had three interactions I might not have had otherwise. The fabric of community has been woven just a little tighter. Plus, I've had a decent aerobic interval complete with weight bearing points.
No comments:
Post a Comment