the unbearable lockness of being

One of the coolest moments from this past week went down yesterday evening as I was pedaling to the pub. Lately I’ve been taking the long way there. It saves a couple beers ‘cause if I get there first there are no distractions. “Ticka, ticka, ticka… athousand, athousand, athousand…” Yesterday, though, I took the long way with additional purpose – returning to the scene of the ankle-river-tumble-splashdown incident. Well, the trailhead anyway. When I left there a few days ago after my fall I was less than mindful. I was more just thinking about my foot – footful – and I somehow rode away without securing my coil lock to the bike. I had remembered setting it on the rear rack but discovered the next day that it had gone missing. Not a huge deal – a low-dollar item – five bucks at the pharmacy/general store down the street. But useful and used a lot over the last couple/few years. I carry the D-lock around with me, too, but sometimes it doesn’t span the available lockup. At this trailhead I lock to the oak tree. The tree is huge, neither of the locks span the trunk but there’s a low branch that I wrap the coil lock around. And, lately, I’ve been a bit paranoid in town so I double lock – D and coil. So, I missed my coil lock. I thought about it a lot during our time away. I wondered, would I ever find it? What would become of it? Where was it spending the night? My mission in taking the long way uptown last night was one of rescue. I got to the trailhead and looked around. Also looked along the roadside as I approached. I wasn’t sure where it had fallen off. I looked under and around the oak tree. I looked in the trashcan – thinking maybe someone had thrown it in as trash. But, no. Where was it? Then, there it was, right there coiled up and resting quietly on a knot on the oak branch. Did I set it there? Did someone else set it there, recognizing the loss? It looked like it had spent the night out in the rain on the ground, a little sandy. But maybe that was oak dust. Thankyou, Tree, for watching over my lock. Back on the bungee and holding down the bag in the basket, we rode away, happily together again, into the darkening foggy evening.