18milesperhour:

MY LITTLE, HOUR A DAY NEIGHBORHOOD

There are some who say the traditional neighborhood is dead. You know, where people greet each other and take care of one another.

Mine is not dead. It’s just moved.

I get all that right up the road on the first few miles of dirt Mulholland where I start most of my daily bike rides. Every time I head up there in the morning I see the same folks.

Ed, in Taft High School gear, walking his two, rowdy setters. 

Ray, the handsome, older gentleman who’s lived here for 50 years but still has a Brooklyn accent.

The unsmiling lady who, after years of passing her and saying “hello,” still seems to trust her dogs more than any human.

And the super-fit, super-tan personal trainer that looks like a 40 year-old version of a young David Lee Roth who is running at an unreal pace, always shirtless and in tiny shorts, even in 40 degree winter weather.

We always greet each other with a familiar smile and “hello.”

If I haven’t ridden up there in a few days they ask me about it – and vice versa.

And when I had my crash, they – and a host of kind people I’d never met before – rushed to my aid.

I’m going to assume that they are that kind throughout the day. But there’s something about the dirt that makes all of us kinder. Something about the solitude of the trail that brings out the best in us.

We’re all neighbors, despite how far apart we actually live. 

Redefine neighbor

This is good.

8 months ago  /  23 notes  /  Source: 18milesperhour