My office is basically a large cubicle, and through force of habit, I tend to travel light. I don’t like to have a lot of clutter, so there isn’t a lot of paper and folders lying about, and most of my personal belongings could fill two file boxes…so I’m outta here pretty quick if I ever get canned or promoted.
But behind my desk is another work surface with an adjoining “bulletin board” that serves as a credenza and is ideal for some pictures. I have the typical family stuff that shows three great kids and a beautiful wife, a rowing pic from the past that shows my partner and I winning a pretty large event that no one expected; and a picture of my bike. It’s that picture that’s the rub.
In moments of contemplation…or boredom, I catch myself swiveling my chair around and staring at it. It’s not a stare of admiration – I’ve done enough of that, but rather; it’s a stare where I imagine myself somewhere else…on that bike.
I’m riding down a country road. I’m camping. I’m touring. I might have a beard. I’m looking for a stealth site. I’m cooking some oatmeal. I’m talking to a farmer who is asking questions about my trip. I’m looking at a map. I’m cranking up a hill. It’s drizzling. It’s sunny and warm. I’ve stopped to take some pictures that no one else may ever see. I’m sitting in front of a store munching on a granola bar. I’m filtering water from a stream. I’m washing out my socks. I’m talking to someone about sleeping on their land for the night. I’m crossing another state line.
I love that picture for what it represents, and sooner or later, I’m going to do all of those things. I gradually come back to realty and return to focus on the work at hand; but still, the road beckons.