When I was a kid, I rode my bike back and forth from one end of our street to the other.
Back and forth in front of my house. That was as far as my mother would let me go.
I'd pretend my bike was a horse. This being back when I wanted to be a cowboy. Old Blue and I rode many miles, just not very far.
These days I have a stationary bike which is convenient and efficient, but not at all romantic. I've started taking my mountain bike out after dinner to ride up and down my street.
It feels like homecoming.
Most of the neighbors are still at dinner, watering their lawns or watching TV, so there is no traffic to dodge.
Back and forth.
There's something about moving one's own weight and feeling a breeze created by self effort that quiets my jumpy mind while strengthening a pair of old knees.
Afterward, while I sit in the yard swing, cooling off, I contemplate how a simple activity can transport a person back fifty years.
Time travel via bicycle. I wonder if Einstein ever considered that?