A Kurt Vonnegut anecdote about telling his wife he was going out to buy an envelope came to mind the other day.
“Oh, she says, well, you’re not a poor man,” the great writer began. “You know, why don’t you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet? And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I’m going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.
“I meet a lot of people. And see some great looking babies. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And I’ll ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don’t know. The moral of the story is – we’re here on Earth to fart around.
“And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And what the computer people don’t realize, or they don’t care, is we’re dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And it’s like we’re not supposed to dance at all anymore.”
“Let’s all get up and move around a bit right now . . . or at least dance.”
Instead of going out to buy an envelope, I went for a run. I could start straight out my front door and save some time, but the streets can be lonely. I prefer to go to the park where there’s no cars to worry about and I can see familiar faces, and new ones as well, and of course dogs and kids, and infants being pushed in jogging strollers. Even fire engines occasionally go by.
On this particular day a theme emerged. Perhaps not exactly a theme, but more like how when you get a new car and you suddenly start noticing the same model everywhere. Psychologists call it the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon or frequency illusion.
Instead of certain cars, I was noticing bicycles with great frequency. It started on my drive to the park when three teenage boys were speeding down a hill while doing jumps off the sidewalk onto street, then hopping back up over the curb, all while weaving amongst each other like a choreographed dance. Waiting at a red stoplight, they did pirouettes on their back wheels.
Maybe this primed my brain for the frequency illusion because in addition to the handful of cyclists I regularly trade waves, nods and thumbs-ups with, I saw – noticed – dozens more, from speedy ones dressed in Lycra to a woman in flip-flops walking a beach cruiser with a flat tire.
But young kids were the real magic. One small boy, surely not yet 3, rode his pedal-less two-wheeler the way Fred Flintstone powers the Cavemobile. He would run while seated and then pick up his feet and coast, repeat, repeat, repeat. Let me tell you, he was Tour de France fast.
Too, I saw no less than three Norman Rockwell scenes play out with youngsters learning to ride bikes as either their father or mother jogged stooped over alongside holding the seat from behind for balance. All three kids eventually wore triumphant smiles and no Band-Aids.
Meanwhile, a kindergarten-aged cyclist with a very cool Mohawk-like bike helmet was navigating a swerving obstacle course drawn in chalk with a few soda cans to slalom through at the end. I expect to see him to be jumping off and back onto curbs, and doing 360-degree wheelies, by the summer’s end.
The moral of the story is I had a hell of a good time watching bicyclists dance.
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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.
Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com