Single Speed: Go.
Days like today I feel ten, maybe even eight, years old.
I get on my bike. No gears. One speed-my speed. The trail is dirty. Dusty. The sun is bright. I’m happy thinking I will be grungy when I’m done.
I can’t believe how far I pedal. Because with each crank I am taking me where ever I want to go. I see nice people. I see big Indians, and I do mean big.
I see my first “Bike Patrol Ranger”. Richard. The road is closed? Do we ride past him?
Yes. Yes we do. Because we are ten, or eight years old, and rules are not meant for us.
And besides, he waved us on telling us it’s not closed to the public. Thank you Bike Patrol Ranger Richard.
Today I don’t have the pressures of a forty something year old. Because today I’m not. I’m ten, or eight, getting dirty. Loving what I see. As fast or as slow as I want.
On one speed.
I love single speed life.
At your own speed.