XLVI

All of a sudden I’m overcome by a feelin’ of brief mortality
Cause I’m gettin’ on in the world,
comin’ up on forty-one years
Forty-one stony gray steps towards the grave
You know, the box awaits its grisly load

—The Rev. D. Wayne Love, “Woke Up This Morning”

Photo by Maura S.

The lyrics to that great song from Alabama 3’s brilliant Exile on Coldharbour Lane album rolled through my head for a minute or two on Saturday as I completed my 46th stony gray step. Not because I was feeling especially mortal, but because I have a tangential thought process that seems to dredge up my favorite songs at odd times.

A bike ride on your birthday is a nice way to not think about the box and its grisly load. Bright sunshine; trails that are firming up as the temperatures drop; three hours to ride and fun people to do it with ... that’s a damn good combination any day of the year.

So just like Rev. DeWayne as he cued up Pithecanthropus Erectus on his CD player, I pushed that remote button to sublimity and listened to the sweet, sculptural rhythms of fat tires on snowy singletrack.

And I made it to the top of that hill without a dab.

But I still got flipped off.

Fingered

Who loves ya, baby?

I seem to inspire this kind of behavior without even trying. It's like I have a gift. Or a camera.

I get The Finger a lot. It's often because I'm pointing a camera at someone while he or she rides a bicycle. My friends sometimes appear to grow tired of having their pictures taken. Don't these people realize I have a blog to fill?

You'd think they'd consider my needs. But noooooo. A few little clicks of the camera, and sproiiiiiing, the ol' Finger pops up like a jack-in-the-box. Except in the case of John, who sometimes chooses to keep it on the down low. But high or low, The Finger is The Finger no matter how you slice or dice it.

Come to think of it, it happens more often when I’m riding with one of these two, and usually after we’ve climbed a hill or three. Hmm. Maybe there’s a pattern there.

I’m not sure how to solve this problem on road rides, but maybe singletrack can help: This summer, I’ll set up for pictures in the hairy, technical sections where both hands have to stay on the bar.

Can’t hurt to try, anyway. At least if I keep getting The Finger, it might be in the middle of a really cool crash shot.