Thursday, February 3, 2011

Bluring lines

Snowmageddon, the Mayans got it wrong the world is ending now, or at least you would think so by the way everyone is reacting.  You are probably stuck at home with 200+ channels of nothing to watch and your family is driving you as crazy as you are driving them.  I'm stuck at work, Literally.  My car is stuck and the battery is dead, even if I could drive, the side streets are so bad that I probably would get my little car stuck.  So, being stuck at work is not completely horrible.  I am not stranded somewhere on the road or at least my car is not in a ditch or smashed by someone in their Tonka Toy SUV.


After

Before

Yes I have been sleeping here at work, I have been able to shower, but my food supply is out.  I planned for three days, but have eaten for two of those days.  I put in a fairly solid 12hrs of work yesterday moving snow with a plow, shovel, fuel truck, and much cursing.  For some reason people think that if they can drive to a place then it should be in operation.  I made it to work  because of strategic planning (I left before the storm got too bad for my little car).  Most of my employees did not have the foresight to come to work, REALLY...who would do something like that????

Anyway, I am taking a little down-time to chill and regroup before I go out and do more battle against the snow and the elements.  My thought for the day or past several days, since my brain is fried, is the Bicycle and it's ability to create class equality.  You are thinking, What?  Stay with me here and I will try and explain what I have come up with, or maybe I have been working out in the cold too long.  We will see....


If they had the category "most likely to do nothing with their life, but pump gas" in the year book I probably would have gotten the most votes for that one.  I am a blue-collar-name-on-their-shirt-lower-middle-class-worker, whose job supports my habit of cycling.  The bike has given me the access to people who are Doctors, Teachers, and Professionals.  People I would most likely not get the chance to socialize with because of Class, but because we have the bike in common we become equals once in the saddle.  Because of the bike I have met some of the best people, people I would have never met if it were not for the common thread of the bicycle.



The measuring stick on the bike is your ability, not your bank account, not your diploma on the wall, and definitely "not your f-n khakis".  You can be a 15yr old kid in a peloton of people 2 and three times your age, but you are not seen as "a kid" you are just another rider, and sometimes you are "that kid" as in that really fast kid.  You know the one, the one that attacks out of the saddle on a climb and makes you want to kill them.  At work some of you wear scrubs, a suit and tie, business casual, or some of you might have your name on your shirt.  We are all very different people from all walks of life.  A transformation takes place when we put the kit, the helmet, and the sunglasses on, and we are on a ride together.   We all look the same, act the same.   We become the same once we shed who we are and what we do, and become cyclists.

1 comment:

  1. AMEN, Brother....

    This is the true history of the cycling life. Remember it was Major Taylor who broke the color barrier (sorry Jackie, nothing against baseball, and I love apple pie). Bicycle Racing was the poor man's way out... The bicycle was the great equalizer... Man's most effecient machine, which has transformed our lives in a million -- no a trillion stories.
    It's was anomalous to see someone from money enter racing in europe (Roberto Vincenti [team carrera in the 80's] his parents were appalled). Henry Degrange knew that he could synchronize muscle and machine from the fields and coal mines of Europe, and the masses would become emeshed in the drama (the human drama). Furthermore, the men of the mines and fields knew; should they win even a stage or any other honor (the lantern rouge was really competetive) they were set for life -- because they could go back home, and set up a bar or cafe named with some connection to the tour de france.
    At the end of the day the bicycle (like the fire) draws us to it, and we gather to retell stories -- our history, and we are connected to each other in this life. TRANSFORMED...

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