Riding After Dark

“I’m jealous,” she spoke loud enough to get my attention — this from the blonde in the convertible next to me.

We’re both stopped, not going anywhere for awhile.

As I glance her way, I take my time to consider a reply. To her I must look shy, at least tongue-tied, so she continues, “I wish I was on my bike.”

“I’ve looked forward to this ride all day,” I finally blurt out — which makes sense since it’s just after sunset and getting dark fast.

We’re riding the Balboa Island ferry on a blustery Tuesday evening and we’re the only ones on board. I like riding the ferry for exactly this reason — it’s a great place to strike up a casual conversation with a fellow traveler — and that happens when you’re moving at human speeds on a bike, or in a convertible.

I want to keep this conversation going, “I’m on my way to Lido Island.”

She wants to know, “How far are you riding?”

“Not far, just from Corona del Mar. There’s a Boy Scout meeting I’m headed to; I’ve been going for over 8 years.”

TMI? If so, she doesn’t seem to care, “Yeah, I don’t get on my bike often enough, because of work.”

“What’s your favorite ride?” Now it’s her turn to reflect. I’m thinking of my favorite ride which I’ll share next. Any way to slow this ferry?

For her it’s rides to Laguna, “But you’ve got to go early,” she quickly adds. For me, I like to ride a little later, so it’s rides to Sunset Beach along the boardwalk. I can tell she likes the sounds of that. She smiles and wishes me a good ride. It already is.

These evening rides to Scouts are special even if I don’t get to make new friends along the way. It’s a ride in the twilight going, pitch black on the return. The breeze off the water is brisk and the whole experience reminds me of nighttime rides in college when I’d be on my way to meet friends — it’s exhilarating.

The boardwalk is mostly deserted after dark, so it’s a rare treat to whistle along enjoying the exercise with time to sort out my thoughts. There’s just one drawback — and not because of tonight’s encounter — but it’s hard to settle down and go to sleep after such a stimulating ride.

The spell is broken soon enough; my headlight blinks out. I’d been having trouble getting it fully charged; this will be its last ride. There’s no moonlight tonight, so now I’m really riding in the dark, but I’m only 2 miles from home. As I enter an intersection I can turn the light back on and get 10 seconds more light, enough for anyone approaching to see me.

It’s only 7 months old, this light. Tomorrow I’ll get a promise from the San Diego manufacturer for a replacement. I ship off the malfunctioning light and hope the new one arrives soon — I’d like to duplicate this experience, this nighttime ride along the peninsula, again soon.