Eugene Update #4

 Going down Donald Street

I hate the name (obviously), yet this is the street I have to go up and down to get to my daughter’s house. Yesterday I rode down the street for the last time.

You see, my daughter and her family is moving.

I know, I know—I just got here and got settled. I have and I will do it again. But for now I’m staying a few more months, separated. First, let me tell you about Donald Street.

Once I crest 53rd on my way down from Grace’s house, I gently brake coming to the intersection with Donald, gently because as I approach and see no traffic, I let go. And, from there I can coast all the way down, practically to 33rd. There is one more up before 45th but the momentum is still carrying me.

As I glide down, down, down, I pull my head between my shoulders like a speed racer and scrunch up into a ball on wheels. I do this in order to increase the aerodynamics. To minimize resistance to gravity. It is like hurtling through space. The wind hits my raw eyeballs and they tear up or else wind and rain whip my face or the cold attacks my jaws. My hands, positioned at the front, take the full brunt of weather. Whatever I do I let the downhill play out, because when it ends, I have to begin pedaling in earnest.

That feeling of flying, at night, the whoosh in my ears, never quite knowing where all the potholes and divots are, the parked cars, or unlit dog walkers. I simply kept going. 

Still. I will miss Grace, Tim, and, of course, the baby. I’ve told myself this is only temporary-until they get a place, get their own bearings. We’re all just flying by the seat of our pants—til then.

 


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