Riding from the North

I took an express bus to a road in north Tucson called, "Sunrise." The temperature was supposed to reach its zenith of an estimated 109 by the time I finished work, so I opted for a $2 bus fare instead of cycling across town and up hills. The express stops two miles north of my destination, but riding downhill for two miles beats riding uphill in 100+ degree weather.

As the bus climbed the road leading into the foothills, I watched the sunlight enhance every plunge and profile of the terrain around me. I actually felt anticipation. I'd ridden this path in a car before and I enjoyed it. However, I've never ridden it on a bike, where there is no barrier between you and everything you see.

The ride down was awesome. There was no stopping and almost no pedaling, because the hill let me accelerate the whole way. I could see over Tucson, a low city mostly hidden by light green trees and shrubs. The mountains glowed orange and red-brown in the distance, as the sun moved toward the western horizon. I continued to go faster and faster and hoped the two miles wouldn't end quickly. Being within two different speeds - the fast pace of everything blurring around you and the slowly approaching horizon in the distance - magnifies your senses. There is no glass to interrupt your sense of smell, touch, sight, and sound; and less stability on a bike puts your mind in potential "danger" status...all making you increasingly aware and increasingly present. The northern part of town is already beautiful, but the experience is even greater when you travel like this, unenclosed.

There are times when I really dislike Tucson. The pace is slow, the culture lacks sophistication, the city is too flat and too hot, the population is old, there isn't enough to do, everything is spread out and the transit system cannot make up for it. However, experiences like these let me see its hidden beauty. It can't convince me to stay forever, but it does make me glad I'm here.