Delays. Holdups. Setbacks. What in tarnation (yes, I did just use the word “tarnation”)!
I have been conspired against by God, by It, by Life, by whomever or whatever one blames for this type of thing. Nearly two weeks have passed since I was to leave, and by the time I do finally leave beyond two weeks. No matter! See friends. See family. Pick up shifts. Polish, polish, polish. Drink more coffee. Buy more things. Take a weekend trip. Wonder where I’m going to live. Run. Sit in a café and write, not very well mind you, about the delays of this delayed adventure of mine.
Maybe, dear Reader, you’re wondering what on Earth I am going on about. Well, it all started about two years ago when the thought of a long bicycle trip presented itself to me. It, smiling and laughing, greeted me from the summit of a mountain; from the bottom of a valley; from within the swirling grains of a sandstorm; floating with the current of a swiftly flowing river; seated on a branch of a tall tree in an old growth forest; wandering the busy streets of a city by night and the quiet, dirt streets of a small village by day. It appeared shaved and unshaved, in a dirty cycling cap, a smelly pair of shorts and a beat up pair of shoes; a pipe dangling from the corner of its mouth. It spoke to me of adventure, solitude, photographs and stories, the peaks of pleasure, and the nadirs of pain, in an indistinct accent and a multitude of languages, most of which I knew naught of, but the images present in the sounds, and the wild gesticulations of limbs had me captivated immediately.
It’s been delays ever since. . .
But I digress. Three months to get a replacement fork because I’m a fool (this blog’s subtitle does have meaning after all), only to discover a crack in the bike frame just before it was to be installed, and a week after I thought I would leave. Currently that crack, rather small, is being welded closed at my stepdad’s machine shop.
We all go about our days. Life sometimes becomes drama; other times it is quiet. But truly there never is, or ever was anything conspiratorial at all.