Connecting with my grandfather and other thoughts

Yesterday was absolutely beautiful in Portland. Warm weather soaring into unseasonable 70s- breaking records. Every breath of air freighted with a different springtime scent. I got home early enough I decided to pull the new bicycle out and give myself a thirty minute run on the Springwater Trail. The bike is my new low-impact cardio to alternate on days we don't play soccer. So here I am, an old guy with a gray beard and a shiny new bike helmet flying along in the late afternoon, and I found myself thinking about my very first bike. That bike, a black and white Huffy, arrived for Christmas when I was, I think four. I remember my grandparents pulling up in their big car, opening the trunk, and pulling out a trove of bright packages. I think the bike was in the back seat. And as I mused on this distant image, whizzing through my Friday afternoon, I realized that the year the Huffy arrived was probably 1953 based on my age. My grandfather, born in 1896, would have been just 57 himself. My age today. I felt a strange disorientation in that moment. I don't know that my grandfather ever had a bike, but I am sure he would not have seen himself bicycling along for recreation. Businessmen of the time did not. I felt gratitude as well for being able to bicycle now, far down the road he'd set me on with my little bike and training wheels. I also realized how tied together we are...in time and in our experiences. Thanks Bompop.