Love, on wheels
I was 12 and my dad just bought me one. It was not a BMX, the “in” bike at that time, but impressing others really did not matter in those days. The world was younger, life was simpler, and material pursuits were not a concern.
My cousins and I – we would roam our fiefdom in Imus, Cavite, nodding our heads to people we knew (like little ladies and lords). We stop at a sari-sari store to get our softdrinks in plastic bags. It had a straw peeking at the opening and was met by grateful, thirsty, puckering lips. Or we would buy our favorite bread boling (never figured out how it is spelled but they were ball-like small hard bread smothered with margarine and the name maybe is the colloquial equivalent of bowling and depicted, maybe, little bowling balls). It tastes of heaven.
We had the wind in our hair, steered free of jeepneys and trikes, we had speed, the sun, carefree laughter. We had no destination and no concept of time and we did not care. We went over bridges and humps, through cemeteries, rough roads. We stopped to repair our bikes some of the time, or walk a flat tire.
It was fun.
Fast forward to today and Stanley Park. With me were my husband and our kids. We were cycling in the bike lane (we made the mistake of not doing this the first time and had cars speed past us on our left, and on our right, a steep gorge – I still get nightmares!). Hands down, this is the best way to enjoy Vancouver and Stanley Park. Weather was perfect (pre-summer), the sea was on our right, and the waves and wind were gentle.
We circle the park, our fellow bikers passing by with their tinkling bells. People strolled hand in hand, others sunning themselves, looking out into the unknown. I did too, while our family made a beeline in the bike lane, hubby with Rai in front, Chiarra zigzagging in the middle, and I holding the rear. The sun was blinding but we could not get enough of its warmth. There were curves along the lane, some I considered a little dangerous. But it can be forgiven because of the views.
And what views we had. Boats on the water, ducks in a row, the Little Mermaid, a small pool, playgrounds with children, a quaint boat house, the Lions Gate Bridge, an artist making rocks stand on rocks, giant trees, water dripping on vast rocks hewed by rain, wind and man.
Peace, mindful only of the route and the intense feeling of freedom.
I have come full circle. Life has returned to what it should be.
At least on that day.