I showed a friend of mine pictures of some early morning rides I had taken over the years. He was impressed with the shots I had captured, but there was something else he confided to me after looking them over.
"Well, you can't just let those live in your phone. You gotta get them out into the world!"
I started taking these pictures in 2020, during the start of the pandemic. Since then, I have not been able to get out on the road when I’d like to as much as I used to due to working mornings. Ideally, I get on the trail around noon or 1 pm. Every blue moon or so, I get out in the early mornings but that’s rare. The best time to ride, for me, is at sunrise. It's cool, the scenery is amazing, and there aren’t people on the trail or the roads during that time.
I found peace for the first time in years on that bike. Things had been hectic once Cisco was born. His mother and I rarely found each other on equal ground. For years I thought it was because of her doing, but now, looking back, I see that it was a collaborative effort to fuck up our relationship. Marissa gave into the anger, and I gave into the victim role. The two things I got out of those last few months together were the closeness I attained with Panchito and the love of being outside on my bike again.
I rode a bike regularly in college. After dropping out and working, I tried to keep up the habit, but it was challenging. I was employed at a place on the east side of Tucson when Marissa and I lived on the north side. I remember going out on my bike one evening when I was about to leave work and my boss, Art, came running out laughing. He said he wanted to see me on my bike, and couldn't stop laughing about the idea of me riding around town on one.
"I just pictured you going around town like Kermit the Frog," he said, turning red as he watched me unlock my Schwinn.
Art was an asshole. I still tell people how horrible of a boss he was, and I haven't worked for him for 10 years now. But he knew how to promote the right people and kiss the right ass, which in corporate America is enough for advancement. Anyway, he ended up having an affair with one of the supervisors there right before I left, which kind of sewn up the idea I had of him as being a piece of shit. But that first time he seemed so entertained by someone riding a bike to work was enough to reveal how ass-backward he was as a human.
The Schwinn eventually received a bent front wheel during a hard ride one day after work. I tried to get Marissa to take me to the bike shop to get it trued, but she said if I wanted to get it fixed, I would just take it myself. That ended the cross-town rides for the time being.
Going back to Art, it reveals a lot to me when someone is judgemental over how others transport themselves. Trust me, it's not Nobel Peace Prize winners who are the ones who roll coal and swerve in front of you out on the road. Those are the assholes of the earth. The ones who don't talk with their children after they grow up. The ones who probably kick puppies for sport.
Besides, how in the world can someone see the scenery from a bicycle seat and not feel like there's no other way to travel?
Where I work now, there are tons of cyclists. Some are retired from riding on the road, instead transitioning to stationary bikes to keep themselves in shape, while others compare notes on different paths or trails that they love riding. I love it. I don't believe I've ever been around so many cycling enthusiasts. Even when I was riding to school, I felt like the majority of kids who rode just thought it was more practical than paying and hunting for parking before class. Now that I've conversed with others who are passionate about the mechanical horse, I can see the difference.
I find myself yearning for my next bike ride some days. There's freedom out there. You don't have to worry about bills or failed relationships. You have to worry about the next hill or getting to the next corner so you can have the wind at your back rather than coming from the front. You set goals and you achieve them. I started out riding eight miles or so, and now I'm up to around 18. The only people who pass me are the roadies, with their carbon-framed rockets that shoot past me. I don't mind it. I'm happy with what I've done. I started on a cheap Walmart rig that required daily maintenance for the derailer to work properly. Now I can do those eight initial miles in about 30 minutes or so.
The bike has taught me that hard work and consistency lead to progress. I'll keep riding and pushing forward. I'll resume taking pictures of sunrises. I'll continue finding peace and understanding while taking in the beauty that this world has to offer.