The tradition is to dip your rear tire in the Pacific and when you reach the Atlantic dip your front tire. Yonah and I started at Baker Beach just south of the Golden Gate Bridge to dip the tire. We began the day in a rush to catch the 6:50 train to S.F. We rode hard to the train station, bought Yonah a muffin, and had three minutes to spare. 6:47 and out of breath at the ticket counter.
"Train's running late. Be here in 30 minutes."
We haven't even started and I'm once again confronted with the lesson of time and hurrying and being in the moment and the irony of life. How many times does one need to learn this lesson before he groks it?
Our pal Syd Mintz met us at Baker Beach for the dipping. I wanted to say something profound to Yonah to add gravitas to the moment, something like, "Yonah the dipping of the wheel symbolizes the commencement of your rites of passage journey to adulthood that will culminate when you dip your front tire in the Atlantic. Remember this moment always." Instead I mumbled some inanity about me being proud of him. I'm sure he was probably much less than half listening and wanting to shove off.
Luckily Syd isn't a rabbi for nothing. She gave us an impromptu blessing about getting few flat tires and reaching DC in perfect health with just a few blisters. Amen to that.
The ride itself was beautiful. 78 miles. No panniers. Some tailwinds. Few hills. Excellent cheese. Yonah hit 41 MPH, a personal record. We're both tired, but ready for day 2.
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Shalom from Jill in Sacramento. You are an inspiration to me. As a bike rider and a Jew, I think what you are doing is the epitomy of Tikkun Olam. I intend to follow your journey. I wish I could have met you in Davis or Cheer you on in Washington DC, but I will be with you in Spirit. I intend to show your blog to our Rabbi and Social Action Committee. Keep up the good work! I fully support you!
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