The Ride Less Traveled

One certain way to doom the memory is by doing everything the same way every time. I have a great memory because I do my best to avoid routines as much as possible, and as I think about it... I've always been that way.

Lawns I have Mowed

Way back when I was a teen, one of my duties at home was keeping the lawns mowed, and in good condition. When a mower cuts through the long grass, pass after pass, a definite pattern emerges. Some people prefer a mow-pattern that parallels the road, or the house. Back and forth, back and forth... very simple, and unoriginal. That kind self-limiting activity never did work for me. My method helped break up the monotony of the inevitable work by mowing a different pattern every week. One time I might mow a diagonal pattern in the lawn, and the following week I would do something completely different. One of my favorites was the spiralic swirl, which, I'd begin* at the 6" tree positioned off-centered on the front lawn. I don't think anyone noticed because no one ever commented on the unique patterns.

Routes I Have Ridden

Lately, I've been taking different routes to and from work. I never know which way I'll be going when I leave, which contributes to the randomness of the ride, and makes it more memorable and interesting. I've seen all manner of items along the various routes I have chosen. A single discarded multi-colored earplug laying in the road appeared lonely. I wondered what happened to it's soiled companion as a child's doll head peered helplessly up at me from the gutter as I peddled by. A hockey puck tucked carefully beneath the driver-side wiper blade of a red pickup truck as three half-drunk beer bottles teetered precariously on the bumper hinted to an unfinished eventful evening for someone.

One morning I decided to continue forward down Windham when I got to Pennsylvania Ave. I hadn't gone more than a hundred feet when I noticed that a metal washer was inconceivably standing upright near the middle of the road. It is difficult to imagine that a washer, the size of a nickel, could be dropped, or fall off of something, and then roll to a stop without tipping over... but, as far-fetched as that sounds, that is the only plausible scenario I can come up with. It was too early for anyone to have walked to the middle of the road and balance a washer upright. Why would anyone do that anyway?

Sometimes I'll peddle as few times as possible, counting each rotation in an attempt to break the record on a future trek. Once I took sidewalks all the way, and on another occasion, I rode without touching the handlebars. A couple of weeks ago, I dreamed that I rode a wheeley to work, but haven't realized that possibility... yet.

* Sometimes clockwise and sometimes counter-clockwise.