California has, it is quite actually a mountain. The bikes
idea originated in our plans over the summer because in our
lives in Ocean City, Maryland, all we did was ride bikes up
and down that flat 7 mile stretch. Disclaimer: Never move
to California with just a bike.
The bus was our ticket. It only ran at super inconvenient
times, never followed the schedule, and made sure that if
we wanted to go out and avoid cab expenses we arrived to
the bars by 8:20 pm. We also made an array of new friends
on the bus. There was of course the one that accused me of
filming him, the one who told us about how he was going to
through his skateboard through the windshield, or the one
who asked Paige for money for graduation.
All great people. Swell time.
The idea first crossed my mind that I had absolutely no idea
what I was doing when I was biking the mountain home
following Paige. I had a jug of water on one handlebar, a jug
of milk on the other, and a pineapple and a box pasta zipped
in my backpack.
People have a tendency of romanticizing their dreams into
these utopias where everything in your life falls together
seamlessly. I’m not saying that I thought it would all be
perfect, but I had no idea how naive I was about my move
out west that summer.
But maybe, just maybe, it’s this romanticizing that is
essential to get us moving. To get us to pick our feet and
leave the comfort and the easy to reach for something.
Something that we desire. For the first time in my life I
was being motivated solely by my own dream and if I failed
or succeeded that rode on my shoulders alone. Of course
others helped me until this point but this dream was my
own. It was scary to admit something like that to myself. I
no longer was just talking about my dreams but I was living
them out for the ugly and for the beautiful and for better or
for worse.
California was a new beginning–and if we’re being honest
I had days where I doubted everything. Myself, my dream,
my decisions. They usually came in the shape of lots of
biking, few friends, and even fewer dollars, and no AC. I’m
not sure why people think that since Southern California
isn’t known for humidity that you don’t need AC. We used
to bike home from work in 101 heat to a small sweat box
of an apartment and lay on the floor with the lights off
and all the doors and windows open desperately trying
to get circulation through our meager home on the side
of the highway. There were things I thought would fall
into place that never manifested or worked out as I had
imagined. I was warned left and right that going out there
without an income set in stone I would have a hard time
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