We woke the first morning in Auroville after having slept between two-three hours in our new homes, new beds. I walked down the spiral stairs of Mitra Guest-house with my new roommates to find out that the first order of business was to find our bikes. Out on the red dirt driveway I noticed a few of my fellow travelers were already out trying to find keys to match bike locks. I ran out and met for the first Tialoc, who in these brief days I have already identified as the most spectacular human being yet to have entered my life. Long-haired, fit as any Tai-chi master should be, and Hawaiian, he introduced himself to me and offered a box of keys and sent me on my Easter egg hunt. After trying to stuff many a key into wrong holes, I found her. Black and silver, thick mountain wheels, shiny silver bell, single-geared, I slid the key into Number 8’s hole and she was mine. Love-stricken, I wrote my name corresponding to the key and bike numbers and walked away longingly; I would have to wait to get my first ride.
Five days have passed since that first ride. Since then, Number 8 and I have shared many adventures; we have explored Auroville together. Her wheels are as new as my eyes and together they roll over red dirt, stop suddenly for bulls with painted horns crossing through the bike path. I have never so much loved biking as I do here, but perhaps that is because I seem to love everything here. I’ve never felt so right in a place before now.
Though Number 8 is surely 2 inches too big of a bike for me, we’ve learned to over-come our differences. I have a rock set securely for help mounting, and as soon as I do: we’re off and I swear I don’t even need to use that arm-breaking trick Tialoc showed us.
