A client was talking to me the other day about the beauty of Fall — the trees, the leaves changing color, the autumn breezes and so-on. I think she was surprised when I flipped her thoughts around. That’s not the beauty of Fall, I said, that’s the fall of beauty, but not necessarily the end of it.
I chewed on that heavily during my ride later that evening — on my appreciation of things that are often seen as past their prime by a culture obsessed with material goods and the newness of everything.
I like older things, weathered things, and things with stories and histories behind them.
I like bare trees beside piles of leaves on the ground, rusty metal fences, and human faces with wrinkles that tell their stories.
I like long gray ponytails, old hand-written letters with coffee stains on the edges, and record sleeves with faded large circles imbedded in them permanently.
I like raspy voices, tarnished jewelry, and wooden furniture that’s lost portions of its stain.
I like cars with dents, black-and-white movies that flicker, and songs played on vinyl with audible scratches.
There’s just a dignity I appreciate in the aging of nearly anything, except for lettuce, milk, and bad ideas.
I like a dog with a frosted face, a copper bell that’s mostly green, and the faded Cross pen & pencil set my dad gave me for my bar mitzvah.
Material things, just like people, have a wisdom about them when they’re older — when they’ve survived the scratches, bumps, and abrasions that come with time.
The wooden spoon in my kitchen, that I’ve known since childhood, tells a story that a brand new one cannot, but only if I’m listening.
That’s not to suggest I don’t like new things too — younger people with fresh ideas, a new coat of paint on the walls around me, or a new knife set with clean handles and sharp edges.
It’s just that given the choice between older and newer, very often, I prefer the older.
I’ve worn the same tank-top for most every workout since before my daughter was born — she’s now 30. If I ever have the money, I’ll find that ‘74 Chevy Vega once again and it will be my everyday car. M*A*S*H vs Breaking Bad…? I’ll take M*A*S*H every time.
I appreciate Courtney Barnett, Modest Mouse, and Stone Horses, but I always come home Traffic, The Allmans, and Herb Alpert.
And the hand I trust the most…? It’s the one that’s the most weathered, most wrinkled, and has the most spots, of course.
This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb
This week by the numbers…
Bikes Ridden: 6
Mph Avg: 15.3
Seat Time: 12 hours 03 minutes
Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and here’s a nice little corona theme song from The Living End. Enjoy…