The Big Inhale

Our fleet of Racing Red cruisers

Lighthouse Bikes is opening in two days! What an adventure this has been. I can feel the synapses in my brain arcing and stretching as I try desperately to master QuickBooks, “Point of Sale” systems, inventory procedures, web design, new-hire paperwork, insurance (workers comp and liability!), and take a crash course in the history of Portland and bike mechanics. These are not areas in which I have ANY natural aptitude and as I have tried to learn about them from endlessly patient friends, family and business associates, it feels like I am in a foreign country, straining to pick out one familiar word from their foreign tongues.

I have begun dreaming about bikes and bike tours. I wake with a start remembering “Ah yes, we need paper bags for the shop!” or “Who is picking up Oakley today?” My lists are scrawled on legal pads, receipts, in notebooks and on calendars. There is a whirling dervish dancing inside me, throwing everything that I knew up into the air and delighting in watching it spin and dance, and land in messy piles.

Last weekend was my birthday. I took the day off and went to Popham Beach with my family. It was a beautiful warm, sunny afternoon and we lay in the sun; snacking on burritos and chatting. I tried to put all things related to biking and business out of my mind. We all decided to take a walk along the ocean, walking in and out of the water and coaxing Cricket, my dog, to join us. Suddenly, out of nowhere came the wind.

The sand, that had seconds before lay down under our feet, rose up and began slashing against our wet, naked legs, pricking our exposed skin like a million little needles. Rain began spitting down icy droplets, and gray, cumulous clouds tumbled towards us. We hugged our arms against our chests and began to retreat, but to get back to our cars we needed to walk directly into the gale. The beach itself seemed to rise up and hover, a foot off the surface, and we soon became coated with a sticky, sandy grit. Cricket looked at me reproachfully through squinty, sand-crusted eyes, as if to say, “Whose bad idea was this anyway?” We bent our heads, and spread out, many of us walking backwards, some with eyes closed and some hunched into question marks of discomfort, and made our way back across the beach; everybody in a silent battle of annoyance.

As I watched the patterns in the blowing sand, felt the needles of the sand and rain pricking, and watched my family spread out before me, I was struck. “Notice this,” the sand seemed to be saying. “Pay attention,” said the rain. “You are here now, not in Quick Books, not in your computer, not on your lists, you are here. It is all for this.” I peered around me. It was true; the shape-shifting sand seemed ephemeral; the surf had become mighty, and the clouds majestic. Maybe I am a slow learner and need constant intensity to recalibrate and stay awake, but nevertheless it worked.

Lighthouse Bikes will open in two days, and we are ready. It is a different kind of adventure than bicycling across the county to be sure, but it is an adventure, and who knows where it will lead. I am excited to watch other people pedal out and explore the coast on our shiny, red bicycles. I love thinking of the sun on their faces, the icy water on their toes when they stop on a beach, and the simple fun that they may have as they ride. That is what it is all about, QuickBooks be damned.