Requiem for a Dolphin

Monday, July 21, 2008 at 10:56pm
After work I was all energized and wound up and I came back to my hotel room and there in the corner was that old Norco Bush Pilot calling my name.

So off I went and there was one of those long slow sunsets starting that looks like a Shirley Temple with too much grenadine and the wind somewhere else, making it's way across Saskatoon I'm sure and traffic was quiet and the Bush Pilot was moving like a little Cessna running for take-off.

I'd been pedaling hard for about 20 minutes and my heart was pounding and I wasn't really sweating but there were beads of sweat starting when I noticed the driveways.

Most of the driveways here in GP are old skool. They're the kind of driveways that seem to be wedged out of the sidewalk, with sweet little 45 degree jumps on either side of them. When I was a kid all the driveways in every neighbourhood I lived in were this style, but now they seem to build them all curved and streamlined and gently sloping. While I'm sure that this new way is far better for the average vehicle, it sucks if you like to get a little air when you're burning down the sidewalk on your bike.

Needless to say it was a bit of a thrill for me to see this endless line of jumpy driveways, and I hit them with a fast and frantic fervor. It was a blast! I'd hit one and jump the bike a few feet into the air, and no sooner had I landed on the sidewalk and regained speed there would be another jump, eager to send me skyward. I was like a 10 year old kid, taking every jump I could get with a silly grin on my face. Up and down, up and down, leaping off the asphalt like a dolphin leaping out of the Carribean to frolic in the wake of a pleasure cruiser.

Then on my last jump it happened. I was airborne before I saw it, and by the time I did, it was too late to do anything about it. There was the jagged end of an iron pipe sticking straight up out of the sidewalk about 3 inches high. For no good reason. At least not that I could determine. I spotted it as I was coming down on it, and by then it was too late. My front wheel landed on it with a dull popping sound, and in the space of about 10 feet there was no air left in my tire.

From there I walked back to the hotel, a good half hour walk, full of anger, then dejection, and finally acceptance. Stoopid iron thing sticking out of the stoopid Grande Prairie stoopid sidewalk