On Day 489 of my Car-Free Experiment I got up early and checked the outside temperature. It was in the low 20s so I thought about taking the bus to church. Nah! I went out to the garage instead and rolled out my Pashley Roadster. Why own such a noble machine without taking it out for a Sunday drive, right?
On Sundays I meet with a group of friends at Christ Church United Methodist Church. It’s about 4.5 miles from my home in Crescent Hill – maybe a 20 minute bike trip. Not a big deal. In my small group at church I’m the oddball who rides a bike. I hope someday I’ll find I’m just one of many oddballs.
Every Sunday a member of our group signs up to bring coffee cake, muffins, or something good to go with coffee. Today it was Dr. Raja Kara’s turn. You can count on Raja to do everything with zeal. He didn’t disappoint us. He brought not one, but two carrot cakes with butter cream frosting. He knows that I have plans for the leftovers.
I like to take the remaining cakes, muffins, or whatever to the staff at the Masonic Home on Frankfort Ave. My dad, Matt Kandle, spent his last days there in the loving care of some very kind and capable people. Dad always liked sweets. Perhaps too much. He struggled with the complications of diabetes for 40 years. When I get the chance to deliver goodies to the Masonic Home, I’m also getting a chance to visit the place where my dad’s spirit took flight almost five years ago. They’re now building a big new health center to replace the old facility where Dad passed on in late March of 2006.
I was commuting by bike to The Courier-Journal in those days. I remember routinely riding to the Masonic Home after work to hang out with him for awhile before heading to my home in nearby Crescent Hill. The slow roll on the bike gave me time to consider what was happening and how it felt to watch my father as he slowly checked out. On March 24 his spirit flew from there.
So, today I had a chance to slow the roll and remember my Dad. There are times, even in the cold of winter, when nothing compares with the rhythm and pace of a bicycle.
On a morning like this, my Pashley Roadster really takes the cake. All I needed was a few feet of twine to secure my cargo on the rack over the rear wheel. And when I arrived, the icing wasn’t even smudged.
Grace. Peace. Bicycle Grease.
PS: Remember, every lane is a bike lane. Share the road.
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Enjoy the ride home.
© Copyright, Kirk M. Kandle, MMXI