Dear Friends,
My favorite bike has been in the shop for the last few weeks. I blew out my freewheel for the second time in as many months, and the folks at my bike shop were kind enough to replace the broken part for free, but—typical of warrantee work—my wheel was somewhat low on their list of priorities, so it took a while.
But on Monday I was finally back in my Brooks saddle, the bike feeling as a bike should feel, which is just a touch shy of flight. It was wonderful. The weather was perfect and my bike was tuned as well as it ever is, and the magic of the experience started creeping up from the place where the wheels roll along the pavement, and into my brain. I was infected with magical thinking, and set off to do the impossible—I tried to find a route from my house (which clings to the side of a hill just off Redwood Road) to Montclair, that wouldn’t involve any nasty hills.
The hills of Oakland have a way of disabusing the hopeful cyclist of any fantasies she or he may have of easy riding or of gentle slopes, but, trusting the magic of the morning and of the bike, I came close, by going in a way that seemed, at first, to be improbable. I rode clear down to MacArthur and then crossed on gently rolling terrain to Park Boulevard, which I rode up to Montclair—not like riding in Kansas, mind you, but much easier than riding up Redwood Road to Skyline, which is what I had been doing.
Here’s my take away: sometimes it’s good to listen to the magic. As modern people living in the a technological age, we tend to think rationally, and surely I could have found my way up Park Boulevard by way of MacArthur using a map (and I did consult a map), but it took the magic of a freshly serviced bike and a glorious day to get me inspired to explore.
So every day let us be touched by magic. Let us be filled with wonder. Let us be infused with joy, for often, when our lives are so touched, filled, and infused, we find that the source of this magic is the God who makes everything new.
God’s Peace,
Ben