What Will You Do When You Retire?

In the midst of the blustery winter weather that January brings to western New York stands my dear old Dad with his bike. Equipped with studded snow tires, special space age clothing to help him bear the negative temperatures, and a mustache to catch the drips- he starts his 30 mile trek.

Pop retired this past December, and hasn't let grass grow under his bicycle seat shaped butt. He can ride his age in miles faster than I can scrape the ice off my car windshield.

Biking isn't a recent hobby, but rather a reclaimed one. When he was much younger...younger than I can ever imagine him being- he and a just-as-crazy friend rode their bikes from Boston to San Diego in 50 days. With a tent and few spare tires on their backs they pedaled across the country.

My Dad has indirectly taught me that life is like a bicycle ride. Overall it is good. Often there are tough hills to climb, but always with a down hill reward. Sometimes you hit a pothole and get jolted from your path- other times you can take your hands off the bars, and feel the wind blowing through your hair. Pedal fast, and then let your feet go to see how far you can coast. Always keep your eye out for traffic, then take the back roads to slow down and enjoy the wildflowers along the way.

This is the poem that Dad left for me when I went away to college. I can never read it without crying.

To A Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you

at eight to ride

a bicycle, loping along

beside you

as you wobbled away

on two round wheels,

my own mouth rounding

in surprise when you pulled

ahead down the curved

path of the park,

I kept waiting

for the thud

of your crash as I

sprinted to catch up,

while you grew

smaller, more breakable

with distance,

pumping, pumping

for your life, screaming

with laughter,

the hair flapping

behind you like a

handkerchief waving

goodbye.

Linda Pastan

Dad, you've taught me a lot about life. I've always admired you and your many passions.

Enjoy your retirement. Make it long and fulfilling. And as I begin my journey in your bike tracks, I'll aim to fill my life with enrichment as you've done. I love you.