Point of View

The Bike Ride

Arizona has some of the best trails around and today I got an up close look at just a few of them as I set out for an all day bike journey that would take me from east Phoenix into Tempe. I put a few essentials into a back pack; water, digital camera, towel and my traveling journal book then made some last minute adjustments to my trusty “Target special” mountain bike. To make things slightly easier, I trucked my bike to a central location, enjoyed a morning cup of coffee, a Red Apple [1], and brilliant sunrise before setting out along the canal trail towards Tempe and the Town Lake.
I was already dreading the heat of the day as I peddled along the dirt path and battled a head wind towards the Salt River. More of a Salt River bed these days as Arizona struggles to maintain its water supply during a ten year drought. Mesquite trees litter the bed along with Sonoran or dessert grass and a variety of cacti species. In 1998 Tempe officially dedicated a section of the Salt River as Tempe Town Lake. With the help of an engineering company from Japan a section of inflatable dam was constructed on the west end of town to enclose the river and provide a management system for water flow during the raining season. The river was filled and today hosts such activities as boating, fishing, and pathways for sun lovers.
I pushed harder, trying to build up momentum to ascend the Mill Avenue Bridge, as Tempe Town Lake came into view and my first rest of the day was within reach. I searched for a shaded spot to rest and found the abutment of the bridge looked promising. I had reached the north bank of the lake and took a moment to splash some water on my face and take in the opening view of Tempe’s city line. It is quite appealing with its clean modern buildings and Arizona State University’s football stadium nestled in between the buttes. I was surprised at the lack of fellow sun-seekers this holiday Monday. It seemed I would have the park to myself which is not something I am willing to complain about as I do enjoy spending quality time with my thoughts. Mounting up again I rode the span of bridge into Tempe proper, arriving on Mill Avenue, Tempe’s main road and the heart of the city. Lined with shops and night clubs it hosts the student population of ASU and the many tourist that visit each day. The streets were quiet and again, I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of people. I peddled along Mill Avenue looking for an out door patio for some journal writing. Ah, Starbucks dead ahead. Perfect as it’s been a couple hours since my morning coffee. Sweaty and sticky I worked my way through the crowded lobby and up to the counter to place my coffee order. I thought here is where everyone was hiding for the day. Not wanting to “spoil” myself with a cool place to rest, I headed to the outside patio where I sat in a shaded corner with a full view of the opening street. I finally started seeing a few people brave the heat and enjoy some window shopping and lunch at the various diners along Mill. College boys with backward facing ball caps walked in groups looking at the other scenery common place on Mill Avenue; the college girls. I enjoyed a few glimpses myself and was then drawn to the small group of Harley-Davidsons entering town. All I thought was, "I have got to get my bike finished and back on the road." (Another story).
The street crowd thickened and busses came to life stopping and depositing more would-be shoppers and “gawkers.” Car horns announced their upset with the jaywalkers as they tried locating that special parking spot before being stolen by someone in a more nimble car. My destination for the day was still an hour away so I gathered up my things and peddled out of town east on University. This road passes through the center of ASU, hence its “clever” name.
I rode along the designated bike path and decided to pay a visit to my tattoo artist whose studio would be approaching a few miles up the road. I met Nichole many years ago when she was a regular at my third place and we struck up a conversation based on the many tattoos she has covering her body. She is a unique girl to say the least, a walking art museum depicting colorful tattoos over much of her exposed body. She is slightly over-done for my tastes, but a very nice girl and an excellent tattoo artist, doing most of her work free hand. She specializes in “cover-up” work or better known as fixing other artists mistakes. The piece on my arm was the result of a “friend” who was just getting started and didn’t have the skills to properly fill in large areas. But, live and learn; it was free.
I came to rest just outside her studio, sweaty and breathing as if I had run a marathon. She greeted me warmly, being careful not to transfer any of my moisture to her. As usual, she was wearing her trade mark low cut top which provided a rather healthy PG-13 view along with some new ink she must have had done. She wore her dark hair up and sitting atop her head rested a baby boa constrictor snake. At first, I thought it was ornamental, but its darting tongue gave me pause enough to realize it was real. She scolded me about my apparent lack of commitment in getting my arm piece finished. I retorted with the ever-popular I’ve been busy excuse which was met with a wry look. To prove her wrong I set up a sitting for September 19 and paid in advance. After some more small talk, I bid her goodbye and headed off to my father’s who was expecting me for a Labor Day feast.
I could feel the sun had done its job on my skin and thought about the one item I had forgotten to pack for the day. Sun block!
I arrived at dad’s to find him and his wife Helen enjoying a cigarette on the patio of their tiny two bedroom apartment. They had followed me out to Arizona in 1998 and have lived in the same place since. My father and I had reconciled our relationship many years earlier after having told him of my upset and disappointment in having an alcoholic as a father. It’s not what I would describe as a “father knows best” relationship, but it gets better with time. Although I am a smoker too, I am always reluctant to visit them as they smoke in their house and you leave smelling like an ash tray. They have made an effort to not smoke inside during my visits, but for the most part the damage has already been done. We had some chit-chat over dinner, a nice corned beef and cabbage, and I teased him about cooking for the wrong holiday. He said he would prepare a nice barbeque for St. Patrick’s Day to make amends. Knowing I had a long ride back to Phoenix we kept the visit short and I promised to phone him when I got home. It’s funny, but even at the ripe age of forty-one; I haven’t stopped being his “little” boy.
The bike ride back to where I had parked my truck hours earlier was nice and seemed to take half the time as the journey out. The tail wind helped but I was still eager to get into the comfort of the air conditioned truck for the rest of the ride home. All totaled I estimate the days ride to be about 25 miles. My only complaint is for a new seat. 


[1] Red Apple reference used from the movie "Pulp Fiction." Red Apples are a fictional brand of cigarettes, from the scene when Butch meets Mr. Wallace.  (Also referenced in Neil Peart’s book, "Roadshow.")