"I guess you say, what can make me feel this way..."

My Bike.



Her name is Vada Sultenfuss, after the main character of the lovely "My Girl" movies. I named her this because of the way she makes me feel when I ride her - like a little girl wearing a straw hat with a flower on the front, a bell, streamers, and a big, beaming smile.

She's a little rusty and in need of a good amount of TLC...but she rides! Albeit, a bit noisily (squeeeeak, creeek, brush, uhhh, what is that?)

Vada in the shop

Riding a bike generally takes me back to childhood. As a kid, I saw the world on wheels. It was the only thing that could pull me away from the television.

One summer I spent a fairly significant amount of time watching T.V. Our television intake as children oscillated between the "On-Cable" and "Off-Cable" seasons of my parents' financial prioritizing. If things were tight, cable was out...but it would usually come back within a few months. The cable guy's arrival always produced rhythms of joy at the ability to relish hours and hours of the golden age of Nickelodeon programs - Salute Your Shorts, Hey Dude, Pete and Pete, Clarissa Explains, Are you Afraid of the Dark (ringing a bell for anyone yet? I could go on and on).

One day, however, I realized that something about spending hour after mesmerizing hour in front of a glowing box was just not Okay. I can't exactly explain what induced my moment of epiphany, all I know is that while zoning and droning I suddenly had this itching, yucky feeling like I had not showered in several days and was lying in my own filth. I needed to move. And I needed to move right then.

Thankfully I had my trusty bike. Suddenly, I was transformed from a body in a morgue to a living, breathing human. The Yakima Valley's orchards blossomed beneath rolling brown hills and the peak of Mt. Adams, and color returned to my pale skin in the yellow desert sun. No one could stop me then.

I feel like there's still no stopping me now.