I keep at least one of my bicycles inside the house. It is usually in the living room, leaning against the back of the couch. The couch is covered with a sheet to facilitate easier cleaning. The furry rascals sometimes join us for movie night, and maybe the bicycle isn't always perfectly clean while leaning. Like those furry rascals, the bicycle isn't terribly concerned with personal hygiene. It is more interested in adventure.
The bicycle leans there aimed at the front door. In the early morning, the sun shines through the window in the door and gives it an attractive glow. It is a constant visual reminder of adventure potential. It persistently, stoically, and quietly stares at the door, and waits. Without movement or sound, it simply glows and invites me outdoors.
For now, I must be about the day's work. But the bicycle is absolutely ever ready. It pleases me to have it close by, and always calling me to more refreshing moments, away from suffocating urgencies, to the open road and wondering what lies over the ridge.