Another Cowboy on the Lonesome Bike Trail

I made enough money serving beer to the PBR fans (that's Professional Bull Riders Association, and don't call it rodeo) to buy a new bike. I found a vintage Schwinn road bike on Craigslist that a guy named Andrew was selling for $200. It's an old school bike with front and rear fenders and a seat right out of the sixties, but what really sold me was the color. It has a yellow frame and green handle bar tape. I'm getting a couple of UO decals for the fenders.

Andrew was gone when I got there, so his roommate Terry showed it to me and tightened the brakes and filed down the brake pads. I have no doubt I paid too much for the bike. Whenever anyone is selling something old nowadays, they call it vintage. "It has a little surface rust," Terry said, "you can work that off with a brillo pad." I didn't mind. When you are paying for something with found money, I can't see wasting enormous energy in shopping or haggling much. I have a little surface rust of my own, a dent or two in my fenders. The bike and I are a perfect fit. On the way home I bought $10 worth of gas and that will last the entire week. I think sometimes it isn't what you pay for something that's so important, it's the value it has for you. I let some college students cheat me for about $75. I hope they take the money and buy groceries and a case of beer and throw a party.

I brought the bike home and took it out for a ride, pedaling up to the gym for a workout. I did a nice circuit of upper body and core work, feeling really good. I went to bed last night around 11:30 and slept till seven, played some poker this morning and took a two hour nap, a had a great lunch of fruit and crusty ciabatta rolls and green tea, had a shower, cleaned the tub and bathroom floor. I was going to do laundry but I left the damned soap at the laundromat last weekend. I am such an idiot. I miss my wife. She always knew where things were, and helped me remember things.

I miss her for many other reasons of course. Companionship, affection--she was a delight to my eyes and a balm to my soul. I met her yesterday for lunch, and my goodness, she was wearing these cute yellow-green shorts and her hair was down. Utterly lovely and unforgettable. I gave her some money for her car insurance. Yesterday was her birthday. I had been trying so hard not to think about her and trying to accept the fact we were not together that I completely forgot her birthday. Half the time these days I don't know the date as it is, but there wasn't an excuse in the world I could make. I brought her the money for the insurance, from my poker winnings, and she thanked me three times and again in a phone message this morning.

I wrote yesterday about sex, and I don't want to belabor that topic, but I have to say I never knew how incredible sex could be until I met Marie. We had the most remarkable, joyous, delicious, intense, passionate romantic life together. We went dancing. We made love sometimes three times in one day, and I could not look at her without wanting her. In the kitchen. In a vineyard. In front of the mirror. Slowly and tenderly, with whispered promises and endearments. Urgently and athletically, my hands on her glorious curves. When we hugged goodbye yesterday I didn't want to let her go. Two tentative kisses, a sad smile. "Call me whenever you like," I said, "I'm always happy to hear from you. Happy birthday."

It is what it is. I started this blog to tell stories and make discoveries, and that's the part of the story most deeply in mind today. I hope it doesn't offend you, because I always appreciate your visits.