The Bikers

My car lulled to a stop as the light rolled from yellow to red.  A long hilly road stretching from north to south etched in front of me.  Gazing southward I saw two small twinkling figures, pedaling bikes heading north.  With heads helmeted into reflective domes of plastic, they appeared as children.  Lithe legs pedaling in black brought them closer and held their balance as they sloped and wobbled towards the intersection and to the bottom of the hill.  One of them (now obviously) a grown male, whizzed through to the other side on the privilege of the “walk” signal.  And just as he made his pass to the other side,  the other rider (smaller and female) came to a stop, stretched her legs off her pedals, and steadied herself with tip-toed feet.  A breeze bounced around her as she waited and little tendrils of hair snapped through the straps of her helmet and curled about her shoulders.  Even from the distance I could tell she was beautiful… simple… and cleaved to someone.

Now, along with her, I watched him.  I watched as he nimbly curved eastward onto a divergent lane.  I watched as he pedaled… resolutely keeping pace.  Getting smaller and edging farther away his blue jacketed-back beamed as a placard of progression and determination.

Seconds into the glide eastward, his neck twisted and his head whipped behind him, then whipped back towards the front and back behind him again (a double take if you will). His feet scissored backwards and braked the bike.  His placard shoulders now sloped (softened) and the bike stopped.  Again, he whipped his head behind him.  His determined resolute gaze now set on her,  far away and across the street.  He watched and waited.  Like a sentinel, he watched for her to come, to make her own pass across the street, to curve eastward onto the same divergent lane, and then finally to pedal nearer to him.  And then, as she did, his gaze returned to the forward and he began slowly pedaling.  Both of them now gliding, getting farther away.


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