My name is Cheap Horse because my mountain bikes can be described as inexpensive, ancient, made from other bikes or all of the above. I’ve been working far more than I want to lately. Missing the parts of my life that make me, me, including Sunday's BTC ride. I’ve been keeping it real at work this past week. After work I head home and I can’t relax, can’t do chores, can’t even sit down, I am not in a good place. I decide to soothe myself by going for a ride. My cheap steed creaks and squeaks as I make the first climb, an orchestra of used parts. Its chain more like rope, its gears like granddad's old saw blade, shifting this bike requires a lot of finesse and a careful pedal stroke. Focus on the positive, body leaning where it needs to, my bike following its line, all of my extremities participating in shifting, it’s all automatic. After a few hours my head reboots.
Out of water, no light, it’s getting dark, I have no idea where I am in this huge forest, I laugh at myself. Leaning Junky on a tree I sit on a rock, reflect on my thoughts, watching the daylight fade away, waiting. I am very calm now. I resolve to keep it real, the right kind of real. I find gratitude in that in only three months my current work detail will change into a very secure long term job with no Sundays. Suddenly I hear what I’ve been waiting for. In a flash Junky and I are tearing off the trail in a straight line through the brush, briars and all, my adrenaline pumping, my thoughts now at rest, I’m truly thrilled. I thank God for loud motorcycles as I make a beeline for a road. Not much sleep and good and sore from my ride, I roll into work early the next day. I get surprised looks. Working 6 days in a row, lots of hours and the busiest day of the week and I am as cool as a cucumber. Later two coworkers come away from the walls and confront me, “what kind of drugs are you on? Wow.” I say “I don’t do drugs, I mountain bike."
By Cheap Horse