springtime nostalgia

Spring has sprung in south-central PA. Daytime temperatures are warm. The nights are mild. Everything is the most exquisite color of green. And the flower gardens are all daffodils and tulips.

Monday night, around 11pm and under a nearly full moon, I went for a little mountain bike ride. Nothing serious, and no light, I just left my house and wandered. My wandering took me through rolling corn fields, along railroad tracks, through construction sites, and finally to an anticlimactic end with a puncture while riding in a ditch. Fortunately, I was only 25 minutes from home by foot.

Riding at night like that is such a rush. The fields are bright with the light of the moon, but the forests are dark and foreboding. Shadows flicker menacingly on all sides (startling a few deer into flight nearly left my shorts soiled). And riding around like that, at night, by myself, without any plan or direction, overloads me with nostalgia for my youth...where I would spend endless hours on my little BMX bike wandering the subdivisions, exploring the schoolyards, picking through construction sites, and navigating barbed-wire fences. Never really making trouble (though I had no qualms with trespassing), but energized nonetheless by the prospect of getting "caught."

...

And speaking of nostalgia, yesterday I rode past a few little league baseball games. Without giving it a single thought--an instantaneous click-whir emotional response--I could taste warm Lemon-Lime Shasta on my tongue. I hope today's little leaguers get better after-game treats. Or at least cold drinks.