inspiring

last night, groups of bikers in 272 cities, 50 states, 15 countries and six continents rode their bikes in a silent procession in memory of bikers killed while cycling. i've seen the 'ghost bikes' around the city, on certain corners, and every time i see one, my heart stops. they're painted all white and typically have a sign attached, noting the biker's name and date of death, and they're stark and sobering. this was the first year i'd heard of, or participated in the ride.

we met up at the eternal flame at daley plaza, and since i was alone, i sat and watched everyone gather. it was so different than any other ride i've participated in. so, instead of the 'happy friday!' shouts and absurd costumes, there were a lot of pats on the backs and memoriam signs with pictures of happy, young *alive* people. wow. i learned later that tyler, whom i never knew - in fact i, as opposed to most, if not all, didn't personally know anyone we were remembering yesterday - younger than 25, tyler died just a month ago.

we really did ride in silence, and that may have been the most overwhelming part. we rode up wells street, and of course, were accosted several times by angry drivers who weren't patient for us to pass. mostly, though, people stopped when we passed, and they seemed stricken. it made me feel good, confident, proud, relieved, a bit proven wrong by man. we crossed over to lincoln, up to irving park road and back down damen and through logan square to western and augusta. there were four or five ghost bikes on the route, but i only saw two: one on the damen/irving/lincoln corner and of course, tyler's bike near target and the highway. his friends stopped at his bike while the rest of us stood back and blocked traffic or became absorbed in the bike and the memorial. they knelt down and touched the white handlebars, or hugged one another, or said a few words or just stood there and looked. it almost felt voyeuristic to watch, but it was also really beautiful and hard to look away from. we only stopped for a minute, and plenty of car traffic rushed by and honked their horns and became belligerent.

we rode on and through logan square and humboldt park, and suddenly this pretty light-filled, still dusk became a quiet, peaceful, breezy evening. when we rode down kedzie, we passed a mariachi band practicing in an open basement, who sounded good and happy and separate, amidst the quiet background of the kids running around before bedtime. there were blooming trees along the boulevard, and they smelled lovely. it was one of those times you look around and feel really happy and content with this world and where you are in it.

as somber and heavy last night could have been, it wasn't for the most part. there were times i felt sorry and disheartened, but mostly it was inspiring and invigorating for my mind, and it reminded me something i too often forget - people are *good* and they come together and commemorate the good - the happy, life-filled, bright-eyed. no one was angry last night; there was calm and peace (of course, aside from the random asshole drivers).

i need to go buy a helmet.

camaraderie is one of my favorite things in the world. i've said that for so many years. it gives me such a great, large feeling, it inspires me. whether it be high-school football fans, pulling to the side of the road for an ambulance, or a group of strangers uniting for something they feely strongly about. it's good stuff; it's rejuvenating, like spring.