Things I Won't Do Again
Democrites said something about not being able to dip one's toe in the same stream twice or words to that effect. Time passes and we eventually pass on. Now all of this is obvious beyond words, however, there is something perhaps interesting in the triteness.
Today I was thinking about the question: What am I too old to consider doing today. Things I did in the past, but which have exceeded their pull date in 2006.
ZooBomb comes to mind. Quite by accident I found out about Portland's ZooBomb. ZooBomb is an anarchic bicycle event held weekly in at the Portland zoo. It seems a bunch of youngish people gather near Powell's bookstore and take the Max up to the zoo with their modified bikes and once up in the west hills near the zoo they make a mass race for the bottom. There are a number of routes down. And they are all steep. This happens at night for the additional thrill. Each rider makes up to four rides in one night and then the group retires to "the Zombie Doughnut Shop". It's the kind of wild, slightly transgressive merry making that Portland is noted for. Eugene OR of Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters is only 100 mile down the road.
What got to me was that I had thought of that idea first. Not only thought of it first but pioneered it. Back in 1983 while I was wearing a suit and tie and riding a desk for a living (designing Nuclear power plant - another story), I rode a bike. I bought one of the first "stumpjumper" off-road bikes that year. I wasn't interested in going out and racing down mountain trails or much of anything to do with the nearby mountains. No what I liked was to ride around the city without having to worry about curbs, potholes and other urban obstacles.
That summer I discovered the west hills. I got out of work at 4:30 and would change into biking clothes and head out. There were 4 or 5 ways up into the hills. Each was steep and challenging. I enjoyed the work and work is the best description. A mile or two up and at the hill top a slow but happy decent on the other side. The western face of the hills are much less steep and a great place to work out the lactic acid. Generally I would explore around until I got hungry. Doughnuts or a quick burger and a look at the evening paper and I was ready to go again. In the west we don't see complete darkness until after 9:00 PM which gave me time to ride back after the rush hour was over and downtown area was quiet. The usually hustle and bustle of Portland was replaced with wonderful peace. The air on the hills cools and pushs down from towards the Willamette river. That's when I would head back home. Home was a downtown apartment or later a shared house on 1st street. I was usually cautious and meandered home, but not always. Once I got on Burnside which is the main East - West axis and rode the whole 3 miles in one swoop. The speed limit was 40 mph and I was passing cars on the right just like a car. No helmet, shorts and a tee shirt, just hunched over the straight bars being one with the road. When a car loomed up in front of me I could have braked. I could have fallen in behind. I could have, but there is a flow state and once I'm was in it I couldn't or wouldn't be stopped. I even went through the highway 26 tunnel. This is called "sunset highway
' and a rush hour there is a perpetual traffic jam heading west. It's kind of nasty because the sun is setting behind the Portland hills and in the driver's eyes. At 7 or 8 dropping down out of the west that wasn't a problem. Keeping the speed down was the problem. It was illegal for bikes to use the highway. The temptation was too great. I could hit 50 mph and take the off ramp one block from my apartment on Columbia. Aah the perfect way to end an afternoon of riding.
Now I find out others have found my little secret. It's a contact high just to read about them and their adventures. I also know that I'll never do that again. I wouldn't have to be in shape to get up the hill, they now have trains to the top. No, I won't risk the chance of an accident. A broken shoulder or a broken hip or a fractured skull could be an unrecoverable disability I'ld have to live with the rest of my life. Sounds kind of weeny doesn't it?
Democrites said something about not being able to dip one's toe in the same stream twice or words to that effect. Time passes and we eventually pass on. Now all of this is obvious beyond words, however, there is something perhaps interesting in the triteness.
Today I was thinking about the question: What am I too old to consider doing today. Things I did in the past, but which have exceeded their pull date in 2006.
ZooBomb comes to mind. Quite by accident I found out about Portland's ZooBomb. ZooBomb is an anarchic bicycle event held weekly in at the Portland zoo. It seems a bunch of youngish people gather near Powell's bookstore and take the Max up to the zoo with their modified bikes and once up in the west hills near the zoo they make a mass race for the bottom. There are a number of routes down. And they are all steep. This happens at night for the additional thrill. Each rider makes up to four rides in one night and then the group retires to "the Zombie Doughnut Shop". It's the kind of wild, slightly transgressive merry making that Portland is noted for. Eugene OR of Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters is only 100 mile down the road.
What got to me was that I had thought of that idea first. Not only thought of it first but pioneered it. Back in 1983 while I was wearing a suit and tie and riding a desk for a living (designing Nuclear power plant - another story), I rode a bike. I bought one of the first "stumpjumper" off-road bikes that year. I wasn't interested in going out and racing down mountain trails or much of anything to do with the nearby mountains. No what I liked was to ride around the city without having to worry about curbs, potholes and other urban obstacles.
That summer I discovered the west hills. I got out of work at 4:30 and would change into biking clothes and head out. There were 4 or 5 ways up into the hills. Each was steep and challenging. I enjoyed the work and work is the best description. A mile or two up and at the hill top a slow but happy decent on the other side. The western face of the hills are much less steep and a great place to work out the lactic acid. Generally I would explore around until I got hungry. Doughnuts or a quick burger and a look at the evening paper and I was ready to go again. In the west we don't see complete darkness until after 9:00 PM which gave me time to ride back after the rush hour was over and downtown area was quiet. The usually hustle and bustle of Portland was replaced with wonderful peace. The air on the hills cools and pushs down from towards the Willamette river. That's when I would head back home. Home was a downtown apartment or later a shared house on 1st street. I was usually cautious and meandered home, but not always. Once I got on Burnside which is the main East - West axis and rode the whole 3 miles in one swoop. The speed limit was 40 mph and I was passing cars on the right just like a car. No helmet, shorts and a tee shirt, just hunched over the straight bars being one with the road. When a car loomed up in front of me I could have braked. I could have fallen in behind. I could have, but there is a flow state and once I'm was in it I couldn't or wouldn't be stopped. I even went through the highway 26 tunnel. This is called "sunset highway
' and a rush hour there is a perpetual traffic jam heading west. It's kind of nasty because the sun is setting behind the Portland hills and in the driver's eyes. At 7 or 8 dropping down out of the west that wasn't a problem. Keeping the speed down was the problem. It was illegal for bikes to use the highway. The temptation was too great. I could hit 50 mph and take the off ramp one block from my apartment on Columbia. Aah the perfect way to end an afternoon of riding.
Now I find out others have found my little secret. It's a contact high just to read about them and their adventures. I also know that I'll never do that again. I wouldn't have to be in shape to get up the hill, they now have trains to the top. No, I won't risk the chance of an accident. A broken shoulder or a broken hip or a fractured skull could be an unrecoverable disability I'ld have to live with the rest of my life. Sounds kind of weeny doesn't it?
posted by garrison at 11:17 PM
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