Something from the past

Back in the 80s I lived in the south Puget Sound. I worked for Boeing for 2 years before the layoffs got me after the 57 and 67 were all planned. I subscribed to Outside mag. frequently an article about this new bike named mountain bike. While laid off an article about the Specialized stumpjumper appeared. Listed price was just south of $1,000. In ’84 I was rehired and the Stumpjumper was still around. The price was out of my reach. In ’85 I scored a year old Cannondale something bike, was state of the art with a 26″ front wheel and a 24″ on back with non indexed shifting, 15 speeds, old style flat pedals, poor rim brakes, and geometry to send me over the bars. I lived near a patch of woods that were laced with horse trails. After getting home from work I would ride those trails after the horses were turned loose. I parked my bike in the garage underneath my 1 bedroom “house”. One day I opened the garage door to get my bike out for a ride. Bike was not where I left it. I searched the 3 bays to no avail. My bike had been stolen from the unlocked garage. My upstairs sliding glass door entry was never locked as there was no lock. My skis and mountaineering stuff were all safe. A new magazine written for this new sport called mountain biking hit the news stands. I bought issue number 2 which the cover photo was of John Tomac riding down this steep pitch on a Diamondback Arrival which the mag reviewed. Pic was photo shopped turning a short berm on flat land to something that caused him to sit behind the seat.

The review convinced me that this was the bike I wanted and I had saved enough $ to buy my own. A store in nearby Tacoma, WA carried them. I walked thru the door, up to the counter, and said Gimme. The bike was ordered. Several days later I swung my leg over my first new bike. I took it home along with a cable lock. I rode the trails again. I learned of trails at Point defiance park to ride which were on the way home from work. Bikes eventually were kicked out because of user conflict from very short sight lines. My bike was serviced at the shop where I bought it. A young man started working there whom I met. Several years later I upgraded to a Klein Topgun sold from a different shop which switched my shop service needs. My riding became training for NORBA races and venturing further from the neighborhood horse trails. In ’90 I moved across the state to Spokane. Yesterday on my ride here on Grand Slam a rider was stopped working on his bike. I asked if they were OK. The guy stopped me and asked me my name. I said Craig. He said I suspected it was me because of my beard, which has since lost its reddish hue, now gray and then when he heard me speak my name he pegged me. It was Bob, the young man from that Tacoma bike shop from almost 30 years prior. We spent many minutes while he fixed his flat rear tire recalling old Tacoma mountain bike shop history. Just something from the past that still speaks to the present.

Smoke haze has descended upon Bend again, this year the air is still healthy to breathe. I have been paying attention to a web site for air quality, so nice to see Bend area air colored yellow for moderate. However , up in WA state the air around Spokane is red for unhealthy. Smoke blowing south from Canadian fires. No riding in that air. My visit to Spokane might be short  and wearing a mask.

So, I have 24X7 365 time to occupy my time as I choose. I have adjusted to me being the one to fill that time. My riding fills some of that time. I read books and internet. I walk. I socialize at 10 Barrel. I sleep by myself. I find enjoyment in my days.

I am parked at the FS welcome center on the way to Bachelor. 4 older guys roll up, one guy asks me if he saw me in his urology clinic in Hendersonville, NC. I said No but most dicks look the same. Hendersonville is nearby to Brevard. I get some socializing just by sitting still and letting it come to me.

Oh, I remember what I wanted to share. Sitting at the bar at 10 Barrell noticing fewer customers. Today is Tuesday, day 2 of “normal” work week. Oh, crowd is from visitors here on weekends and vacationers. On yesterday’s ride I saw few riders. Oh to have all the time for me. I was previously obnoxious to people who could only play on weekends. Back in ’78 hiking the PCT during the week I encountered few others and campsites were always open. Somehow a derogitory term emerged to describe the weekenders: Wally Weekenders. Once I put on a work harness I became one of the dreaded group. 10 years on I enjoy weekday trail ride and accept the Wally Weekenders. I am not as smug now.

However, younger and faster weekenders I might mention that no employer owns me, I am my own boss and live free. I have a faint memory of my youth, they have yet to experience aging to my age. Perhaps my attitude remains the same.