I have never ridden a horse. Nor a camel. Nor a donkey. Nor a pony. Nor an ostrich.
A lot of extraordinary experiences are waiting for me. No doubt about that. But most probably they will concern something else. I have legs to walk and run, so what am I to torment other creatures for? Why were they to carry me if I still can carry me myself?
I have never drive anything pulled by anything or anybody . . . . . . But that's not the point. Driving is something different. Driving is not riding. Yes, I know. Yet I can't keep myself from telling an extremely short story how I once was going by rickshaw. Going – so neither riding nor driving! Just going! Just being carried – sitting comfortably and going - - - - Well, it happened long ago and far away from here. I was young, and the rickshaw driver was old. I was sweating due to overwhelming heat and sultry wet air strangling my light body – his dark body was covered by a torn shirt never getting dry. I was breathing heavily with despair – he was breathing heavily with despair. But my despair and his despair were different. I was feeling strange. Suddenly I imagined that if I had had a whip I would have cracked it, and if I had had reins I would have pulled them. I would have tickled his sides rather strongly... What sultry thoughts in my half boiled head. Only for a while… It shouldn't happen. Shouldn't be like that. Even for the shortest while... It's always like it should never been.
And when I am no longer able neither to walk nor to run? What will I do then?
Then I will be able to roll. Let's hope. Let's suppose I will... So, rolling seems very important, indeed. Very useful. Why isn't it a sport? It could have at least several disciplines: rolling up, rolling down, rolling on flat, passive rolling, active rolling...
It might be that someone rolling – rolling something or oneself – invented a wheel. Yes, it might be so, however this is not the point, although a wheel seems an invention as significant as sport . . . . . Really? For millions of years the world could exist without a wheel, but not without sport. Does it mean that bacteria did already play games as absurd and preposterous as golf, football or hammer throw?
So, let's ride on wheels.
A bicycle? A motorcycle? A scooter?
A kick scooter. Yes! Why not? Why there is no kickscootering, if there is cycling? Kickscootering indoor and outdoor. Road kick scooter racing... Are there any roads here? . . . . . If a kick scooter, then why not roller skates? Quad or inline. Any. Ice skating is an Olympic game, while roller skating is in circus or on the streets – why? What an injustice! . . . . . . . But this is skating, not riding!
Yes! Skateboard! Of course! . . . . . No! I have never been a skateboard rider. And I will never be. Most probably... And what is a skateboard? It is a kick scooter with no handlebar. A board is but a monstrous ski with wheels fixed to it . . . . . . . . And then these wheels were unfixed, and thus we got a snowboard. Is such order a right one? It may be wrong, easily. The history of boards and wheels is very tangled.
Riding is very complicated. This is an extremely tangled matter.

Are we here in a hurry? Are we rushing so much the legs are not enough?

Let everything roll lazily.

Let's compete in lazy rolling.


Mumbling. Mumbling rolling lazily... I should take my bike and ride for a while to air my head, to disperse rancid thoughts. But my bike is very old. Black, huge, with no derailleur. The pedals turn arduously. Something is creaking and scraping. I ride my bike very seldom. Only to make shopping or send a letter. When I need to do it faster than on foot. Usually I take the ground path across the fields, to bypass the mountain which I can't climb by bike even having the smooth blacktop road there. I try to ride as fast as possible to ride as short as possible, because the shorter I ride the less I get tired. Is it sport? Probably it isn't. And if it is not, what is it then? And if it is sport, who do I race against? I race against this mountain which I can't climb by bike.