“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.”
~ T.S. Elliot
The automatic doors part for me as I push my bicycle across the threshold into the bright Monterey sunlight. The safety and protection of a controlled and modern world is in back of me, shrouded in low light and a quiet hum. The bright light of adventure lay in front of me.
A pretty young woman sits on a bench outside the terminal. We catch each other’s eye with small smiles a couple times. I think this is flirting, though I’m not very good at either recognizing it or executing it. I’m pretty logical, which drives me to want to analyze and evaluate things. With flirting, once you analyze it, the opportunity has passed.
There’s a process, an unspoken ritual, that’s wrapped around flirting. A little of this, a little of that, then maybe some of this over here. It’s all body language and vibe. For folks like me who rely a lot on logic and words, with an analytical bent, flirting is unknown and confusing territory. I suck at it.
The young woman rescues the situation (I suspect it’s usually the woman who must rescue any flirting situation if it’s to progress) by offering the first comment:
“Did you bring that bike on the airplane?â€
I smile. “Actually, I just dropped off a rental car. I brought the bike with me in the car.â€
“Are you here to visit?†she asks.
“Don’t know a soul out here. I’m riding my bike across the country.â€
Her jaw drops and her eyes get wide. Now, if she were to exclaim that I must be some kind of stud, life would feel really sweet. I could ride down the road basking in the knowledge that a pretty young woman thinks I’m a stud.
My reaction here is different from my reaction back in Colorado. I’m already here, and I’ve dropped off the rental car. I’m pretty committed. Her reaction of astonishment doesn’t sow doubt in my mind, but instead I feel something I haven’t yet felt – a sense of commitment to the journey. It feels good. I can do this.
“How about you,†I ask, “are you visiting friends?”
“I don’t know a soul out here either. There’s a writer’s conference I’m attending down in Carmel this week. I’m trying to get started as a writer.â€
What a neat bit of synchronicity. I smile at the thought. She answers her phone and has a short conversation, obviously her boyfriend back home on the east coast, while I make some final adjustments to my gear.
She hangs up, and asks, “Do you have a camera? I could take your picture before you start your ride.â€
The picture she takes will speak volumes to me later. My white legs are lacking the dark tan the desert will soon burn into them, my face still bathed in a cockiness untempered by 12 percent climbs and desert dogs.
Her ride pulls up. Just before she closes the door, she looks back at me. We smile and give each other a knowing little upward jerk of the head. Be well, it says. May the Force be with you. Live long and prosper.
Watching her pull away, I feel an odd camaraderie with her. She, too, is embarking on an adventure in her life. I don’t get her name, but it’s the first of many connections I’ll feel with folks along the way.
Here in the airport, surrounded by people and machines and noise, two people embark on separate adventures. We connect briefly, smile, and exchange a few words, each of us recognizing the pilgrim’s heart in the other.The Odonata loaded at Monterey Airport.
Pilgrim Wheels Excerpts This post is part of a series of posts, representing excerpts from Pilgrim Wheels, a story of a cycling journey across America. Pilgrim Wheels will be released in early March, let me know if you’re interested in doing an advance review.
