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 July 2005 Back to Table of Contents Back to Archives Main Page Section: End Page The Open Road By Susan Hannen
I remember pedaling down country roads where, once in a blue moon, a car would go hurtling by, leaving an exhilarating whoosh in its path. Every so often a lone farm dog napping under a shade tree would rouse and rush ferociously to the shoulder of the road to warn me off his territory. But mostly the road would be empty; the air would be filled with scents from the hedges and fields, and the constant thrum of crickets, grasshoppers and June bugs would be interrupted by some short, shrill birdsong. I would weave lazily, crazily, slowly back and forth, from one side of the road to the other, in effortless harmony and rhythm with the whole wide world around me. I hardly had a plan; find a creek, stream, or pond with soft grass that was beyond the view of passing cars, and wile away the afternoon in the company of Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë or Margaret Mitchell. Whatever problems I thought I had were carried off by the wind and water. Sometimes, rarely, driving somewhere in the summertime with the windows down, I will catch a brief whiff of that freedom — those summers of hot, shimmery tar roads, of the silence of everything man-made, the symphony of the woods and fields, and of the bone- deep peace. These recollections are a mixed blessing. I am stabbed in the heart by a sense of loss; something far beyond what the word “bittersweet” can express. I rail against the out-of-control, thoughtless, short-sighted suburban sprawl, the endless development of strip malls, parking lots, discount stores and car dealerships. My blood starts to boil thinking about all the animal habitats that are being destroyed and now I experience the antithesis of what I felt on my bike rides in the past. I don’t want to feel angry and powerless all the time. I don’t want to turn into a curmudgeon who is always talking about “the good old days,” and I don’t want to allow poisonous resentment to dominate my travels. I’ve yet to come up with a reliable strategy for combating my anti-stupid and greedy-development bitterness. My family is starting to suggest that I might be better off staying at home in the city where, thank God, there’s no room for more development. To my delight I have discovered the joy of riding my bike down long, shaded streets in the city and the wonderful bike paths on the waterfront. I pack my brown-bag lunch (sans baloney) and a good novel into my handlebar basket, and meander around town until I come to a quiet green place, out of view from passing vehicles. I have discovered, happily, that there are many opportunities for finding solitude right here in the city. But you have to get out of your car and on your bicycle to experience, once again, those ineluctable feelings of pure freedom and peace. back to top back to table of contents Current Issue | About Forever Young | Where to Find | Advertise | Our Advertisers | Community Calendar | Contest | Clubs | Contact Us | Archives | Home |
