by Dan Hiland

Created on: June 18, 2009

Impulse Power

The problem with being impulsive is that you always have to be on guard.

The desire to do something will suddenly hit- and since whatever you're leaping into today has been simmering on the mental back burner for a while anyway, it shouldn't come as a big surprise- but it always does. That's why it's seen as impulsive, since no one but you saw it coming.

One consolation, though: at least you weren't forced to do it. You pushed yourself over the edge.

So it was one Thursday when Carol and I went for a ride to the library. It wasn't a long trip, maybe a mile through cross-town traffic.

As we took off, she said "Lead the way!", to which I replied "Okay, but you never like the route I take, so beware."

And off I went, her telling me upon arrival at the library that she didn't like the route I'd taken.

Maybe that was what ignited my wanderlust.

Whatever prompted it, I announced that I'd decided to ride my bike to Mom's place instead of driving. As such, I'd be going straight home instead of accompanying Carol to Chief Joseph (for some quilt business with the grade school teachers).

There- now I'd said it: my mission statement for the day. Calling me a brave man, Carol went her way and I went mine.

This would be better than driving the truck, anyway, I reasoned. The weather was cloudy but warm, and I needed the exercise. The unseemly paunch I was developing needed taming, and this seemed the best way to do it.

Returning home, I pumped up the tires, donned a helmet and bike gloves, grabbed some water, cash and a tire patch kit- then was on my way. I wore a tee-shirt, shorts and a pair of K-Mart's finest $39.99 walking shoes sans socks. Since this would be a short trip of 20 miles, there was no need to wear my padded bike shorts. I could do the 20 standing on my head.

I had only gone a few blocks when I stopped at a convenience store and bought an apple strudel to keep me going. Then I was off again. My legs felt fine, considering I'd done no warm up rides yet this spring.

I found Vancouver and headed south, passing the Rose Quarter, then went down several switchbacks to the esplanade (or "boardwalk," for those willing to drop the pretense).

Riding along the riverside was nice but it ended all too soon. This downtown stretch of the Springwater Trail was being pushed east by geography, displaced first by docks and then a sand and gravel operation, and finally by a band of forested land where deer and the homeless roam.

Near Oak Bottoms

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