THUMBS HIGH SANTA CRUZ

GUEST SUBMISSION #3

THANK YOU GABI KIRK 

When I learned how to drive, my dad taught me to use only paper maps. While many of my friends relied on Mapquest, in-car GPS, or their smart phones to get them to their destination, I always pulled out a map. When first learning my way around the Bay Area, I got lost many times, only to be saved by the impossible-to-refold bundles of paper stuffed into the side pockets of my dad’s station wagon. When I moved to Santa Cruz, I hung a map in my Kresge apartment of the coast past Aptos and marked friends’ houses and hiking spots. I do not own a car, so learned my way around this town via bike, bus, and foot. I prefer to navigate by bike. It is easier to see street signs and I love to shimmy down sidealleys or through parks. But sometimes I travel as a passenger in someone else’s car, often a friend, but sometimes, a stranger who is not in too much of a hurry to pick me up. Two nights ago, on the first day of my last week as an undergraduate, I was biking down Hagar Drive at night. I’ve ridden this slalom countless times. The full moon lit up the Great Meadow as I coasted down the curving road, going nearly as fast as the cars that barely passed me. At the bottom, I turned at the traffic light to continue off campus, and heard the sound every cyclist fears. My front tire pops and air slowly fizzes out, like a steaming kettle left on the stove too long whose water boils away. I marvel at the bad luck of getting a flat the week before graduation, but feel blessed it came at the bottom of the hill. I surely would have crashed if it had been even thirty feet earlier. I roll over to the Lower Campus bus stop to examine my tire and the bus schedule. It’s late and the next bus won’t be there for at least half an hour, assuming it’s on time. I examine my tire to see if I can ride it home, but the air has already completely escaped. I wonder what caused this misfortune, as I cannot find a single piece of glass or sharp pebble. Perhaps my tire simply ran out of air and gave up, just as I feel I have as I roll through my last seven days at UCSC. I lock my bike at the bus stop and stick my thumb out. It’s windy and has been raining all day. My eyes flit between the oncoming headlights of students leaving after another long day, and the beautiful moon lighting up the dense clouds over the oak trees. The rain stopped but the air still smells moist and lively. When biking home I do not always have time to look closely at my surroundings, as I am too absorbed in keeping track of my speed and the road. Standing now, on the side of the road, car after car whizzing past me, I can take a breath slowly and realize what it means to have spent four years in such a beautiful place.


It’s getting cold, though, and I’m frustrated at the lack of empathy from my fellow travelers. I try to put on a nice but non-threatening smile, but soon realize most of the drivers can’t even see my face. Finally a red pick up truck pulls over. I recognize a familiar face, my good friend’s boyfriend, in the front seat. I’m close with his partner but haven’t seen him in months. “My bike got a flat,” I say sheepishly. “Grab it and throw it in my truck!” he exclaims, happy to see me. Seems like my luck is looking up. I get in and we make small talk. Somehow I feel less comfortable talking to him than if he were a complete stranger, though. I often find it easier to start from scratch than navigate the social niceties required when you see an acquaintance. Perhaps this is why I have problems keeping friends through my time at UCSC. I find it easier to make new
friends than to maintain existing relationships. I wonder how well I will do at keeping in touch after graduation.


He drops me a few blocks from my house, apologetic. “I’m meeting a friend downtown and I’m already late,” he explains. “Otherwise I’d take you all the way home.” I haul my bike out and drag it six blocks before dumping it unceremoniously into my garage, then collapse onto my couch. One more block and I would have popped just like my tire. One more week of school, and I do not know if I could get through. Sometimes, that ride comes along just when you need it.


THANKS FOR SHARING GABI, THUMBS HIGH!