The Night Rider

This isn’t the first time my cycling brother from down under has posted on Loving the Bike.  Mark (aka @Lycra_Loony) is an amazing guy/husband/dad who lives without a driver’s license.  Yeah, this dude is the real deal and is Loving the Bike every single day.

The Night Rider

by Mark

After midnight.

The sky is black, the air cold.

A lone cyclist makes his way home along the dark path that winds its way beside the river. The stresses and worries of the working day behind him. The sound of tyres humming keep him company.

Lights blazing, showing the way. He dodges the potholes with ease, for he knows they are there. They always are. This is a route he takes all too often.

In the distance, a dog barks. While closer the sound of frogs can be heard.

Overhead, a large fruit bat takes flight, its leathery wings flapping as it moves to another tree.

The occasional car can be heard passing by from nearby roads. The lone rider scans the path before him. Watching as rabbits dart across the path in front of him. He spots a fox. The animal halts, it abandons its chase of the rabbits, turns tail and quickly retreats to the safety of a nearby bush.The rider pushes on, around the bend and away from the river.

Ahead of him is the hill. The rider picks up speed to begin his attack. Another dog barks and a possum scampers up a tree. He hits the hill at speed. Onward and upward he climbs.

The bike starts to slow and his breathing becomes heavy, but he does not quit. Eventually, the path evens out and his legs fall back into their normal rhythm. A smile appears across his face as he knows he has conquered the hill again.

The path comes to an end, and the lone rider finds himself on familiar suburban streets. A solitary car passes, turns a corner and disappears into the night.

The streetlights are now his guide. Houses either side are dark as their occupants sleep. Only the occasional sliver of light through a curtain showing that he is not the only one awake at this hour. He makes his way through the streets until he reaches the one that is his.

The lone rider turns the corner and gives one last burst of speed. Allowing his bike to roll and slow to a stop outside his house.

He is home. He is safe and he is tired.

I am that lone rider. My name is Mark, and I am loving the bike.

Ride Safe.

– Mark