This picture shows a segment of a local city bike path not far from where I live. It’s part of the short loop I’ve been making a point to ride every day. (Before I go any further, please recall that I’m not yet living in Adrian.)
At present, it’s only a short spur, but it will one day connect two major sections of trail. It is a beautiful little segment of trail running through an otherwise less-than-spectacular part of town.
It winds along the river, dips under bridges, and provides a nice respite from the potholes and boarded-up houses that grace the streets above.
I get pretty aggravated at all the busted glass I find scattered along portions of this path that run alongside the road. But the next two pictures show what I had the pleasure of riding through this past Saturday on the segment photographed above.
The number of casings you see here reflect only those lying on the paved portion of the path; I didn’t even bother looking for any that might be lying in the grass to either side of the trail. For those keeping count at home, that’s 21 rounds you see in front of you.
I really wasn’t sure how to title this post. Seeing these shells on the ground made me angry. I’m still angry. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I guess I just felt an urge to share what I saw with anyone willing to read, but I’m not really clear as to why. The truth is, I’m flooded with thoughts. It’s just that so few of them make any sense right now. Even untangling them would be difficult. It seems the only comment I can muster is that violence sucks. And the pitifulness of my meager response only makes me feel worse.
Is it stupid or naive to wish or imagine that bicycles might somehow be part of the solution, at least at some level? Maybe. Probably. I don’t know. For what it’s worth, I certainly feel a lot more peaceful, happy, content, and generous toward those who roam the earth with me, whenever I’m out on my bike.