Tuesday, November 2, 2010
On our bikes we were part of a parade. Streamers in the form of strings and cloth strips blew in the breeze from our handlebars. Playing cards had the wheels kicking up the sound that became so familiar we could hear it in our sleep. We lined up and rode in circles showing off to each other being that there was no audience as we pretened. We were racers, one would draw a line in the sand and we would take our places. With the drop of an arm we were racing. While we never had the wild stunt boards of today, we had fun in our own right. Fun that I wouldn't take anything for the memories. Riding in the winds, arms spread wide, laughing as we made our way down the road.
We searched for unusual stones every time a load of rocks was brought in. We could spend hours searching for the rock with the most sparkle. Fools gold made for some interesting games.
Along this road we traveled to many different times and places. Not far from the river it was a well traveled route for trading. It was a route soldiers had taken. Along this road we made great discoveries. Along this road we began to grow into who we would become.
Not too long back I did some bike riding along the road. I smiled and laughed as the memories came flooding back. Arms spread wide, laughing as the wind blew past. Remembering the freedoms of youth. Remembering how a simple narrow dead end dirt road can become the gateway to imagination.