My Bicycle, pt.1: The Digression

Riding my bike is a great joy for me. So I honestly took pleasure in the rather long trek to and from the place I was house-sitting for the past three weeks.

It’s such a good route, too! Once I get on the path, it’s smooth sailing through the Experimental Farm, across the locks, and along the canal. Ah, Experimental Farm! I’ll miss you.

The first time I heard it mentioned, Adam was giving me directions to get back to Nepean. All I could think of was The Island of Dr. Moreau. There would be dancing sheep, and blue corn, and tomatoes that would launch into philosophical debates before biting your ankle… because what else would be on an experimental farm?! I even asked if it was safe to cut through it, imaging that it was top secret and heavily guarded. But the trail is clearly marked with lovely green signs and it’s quite standard, once you get over the fact that there is a huge farm in the middle of the city. *Sigh* too bad my new home isn’t on the far side of the farm…

Which makes me think of On the Far Side of the Mountain. Which makes me think of a story, completely unrelated to bicycles. I’ll tell you anyway ‘cause it’s my blog and I can do that.

At one point when I was quite young, my brother received copies of my dad’s favorite childhood books: My Side of the Mountain and On the Far Side of the Mountain. I was ridiculously jealous of the gift. I was the reader, not Josh. Why weren’t the books given to me? In hindsight, I imagine my parents were trying to foster a love of reading in my brother. Yeah, it didn’t really take.

Please don't think I’m some bookish-snob looking down my nose at my little bro, tsk-ing his lack of literary pursuits. On the contrary! My brother and I have always had very different interests and aptitudes. I liken his interest in reading to mine in, say, golf. I’ve played miniature golf a handful of times (oh man, this analogy doesn’t even extend to real golf!) and it’s ok, but not necessarily something I’d seek out for entertainment.

Not enough?

My brother at 13 could do things with computers that even now I can only explain as “magic.” And as far as welding and metal-work, he’s got the sibling market cornered. I learned how to knit this spring. That’s the sum extent of my craftwork skills.

[I just think I should have gotten the books, that’s all.]