Ride with me …
We left Stonehenge at around 6pm on Midsummers day.
I climbed on the back of our bike as I have done hundreds of times before, first squeezing Als shoulder in our silent communication to make sure he knows I’m about to add my weight to the bike and he’s steady.
I sit down.
Relax.
Already lost to the noise of the engine.
As Al pulls away, I watch as the visitors centre swings behind us.. a man smiles and waves at us as we loudly but gently ‘put put’ past him.
I wave back. He can’t see me smiling but I hope my wave shows my beaming grin.
The wind rushes past as we pick up speed. I am cocooned tightly in my helmet, visor slightly ajar.
Al squeezes my knee - his way of checking I’m ok and happy.
We have intercom, but we have ridden for so many years without that we have our own silent language.. a tap on the shoulder, a squeeze of the knees … occasionally a point of direction.
Mostly, when I am on the back of the bike I am completely lost in my own world.
Everything looks new and different… like looking at a room in a mirror or standing on your head. It’s the same room, recognisable, but somehow seen with fresh eyes. We can ride roads I’ve travelled along my whole life and they look completely unfamiliar.
I can see so much, in all directions at once, and in so much detail.
I see graffiti, flowers, birds, ornaments on window sills, flowerbeds, cracks in the pavement, pictures on lounge walls. I see moments in time, tiny slices of life as we fly by… interactions between people, snippets of conversation, wildlife.. hares playing in the fields, red kites gliding overhead, swallows flying alongside, racing us.
Life.
The air is warm and muggy. It’s been a hot but windy day, not as stifling as recent days but the smells we pass are still the remnants of summer heat smells. Dry grass, warm tarmac, car engines….
I notice tiny drops of rain scooting across my visor.
The change in smell is immediate… that incredible fresh scent of new rain on warm fields.
Sweet.
Familiar.
I watch the water making tiny rivers across my helmet, each drop indecisive in its journey, wobbling this way and that before finally being swept away.
The rain isn’t heavy its gentle, silent and fresh . Just perfect.
I turn my attention back to the road.
I’m not riding the bike, obviously, but we work as a team to travel safely. I watch the traffic, junctions, other road users, pedestrians… aiming to spot anything that Al may not have noticed so that I can give him a gently nudge or a squeeze. Two set of eyes, always better than one.
We have been riding together for so many years I can tell when Al is thinking of overtaking, or going faster... I know how he shifts his weight imperceptibly when he’s about to alter his speed or change direction. I may grip a little tighter or shelter my body behind his as he drops a gear to make a move.
We ride together with a mutual respect, a total trust. I have no option but to give myself over to his judgement and experience. And in return he appreciates my relaxed state, my movements flowing smoothly with the bike, like a inanimate piece of luggage on the back … but smilier.
For me, the total lack of control is liberating.
Being on the bike is pretty much the only time in my life that I relinquish control and am able to disappear into my own world.
Relaxed.
My mind wanders, I daydream.
I find myself quietly mulling things over, making sense of recent events or conversations… thinking about things but in a way where almost as soon as the thought arrives, like the rain on my visor, it decides it’s direction and then passes … gone.
At this moment, I am responsible for nothing. I can’t work, I can’t look at my phone, I can’t speak to anyone, there’s no radio, no noise except the rush of the wind and the roar of the engine.
I can think. And not think. I can dream and plan and scheme … or just simply watch and wonder.
This is my peace.
I was listening to a podcast a while ago in which they explored a concept of a sort of meditation in which you aim to ‘forget’ the everyday names of things. Forget that a tree is called a tree, or a ladybird a ladybird and therefore put aside any human labels that may come with additional information creating subconscious trains of thought … ladybirds have spots and trees have leaves…green... photosynthesis…. acorns … squirrels….
And just see the world anew, without labels, or information… seeing it as a child might see things for the first time.
For me, this is how it feels to ride on our bike.
As we get close to home, the rain has eased and the coolness of the evening is starting to make itself felt through my jacket.
The road sweeps and curves through the Dorset countryside, around corners and into dips where the air temperature drops dramatically for a brief moment before we rise out of the dip and the warmth returns. Magic.
We pull up outside our home, furry faces of the kittens at the window, excitedly waiting for the evenings terrorising.
Time for a cuppa.
Hope you enjoyed the ride with me.
