This is not about cycling.
I wrestled the large, black container into the trunk so that it (just barely) fit. It had been four and a half years since I’d last used it. How different were the hands that held this case then from those that fought with it now.
The snowboard was purchased from my local sports shop for something south of a steal. Mostly on a whim, but with visions of me ‘shredding’ the ‘gnar’ I took the board home in great anticipation. That Thursday I got on a bus with a number of my schoolmates, traveled up to our nearest ski hill, buckled in, looked over the lip and promptly crashed. For just about five feet I graced the hard packed snow with my face. I got up smiling but with blood dripping off of my forehead it was readily apparent; this wasn’t what I was looking for.
Ah, but when God closes a door, he opens a window. As good as I looked in baggy snowpants and goggles (pizza is wholeheartedly encouraged in the snowboarding community, a fact that may influence their fashion choices) skin tight spandex was my destiny. Still – it was a decent sized purchase. One that sat unused and unloved for quite some time.
As I drove away from Ryan’s parents house where I dropped off the board (complete with a veritable ‘starter kit’) I started to think about what had just occurred. Sure, I had lightened my load just a bit and gained a small sum in the process, but I think something more important had taken place. I knew Ryan would use the board the way it was intended to be used. It would be beaten, bruised and eventually broken. And when that day came that board could rest a little easier knowing it was used to it’s full extent.
So go forth, Mr. Ryan. Whether this is your first in a long line or the only board you’ll ever own, I wish you the best. Whatever you do –
Beat the living hell out of it.