My New Toy

When I was a kid and I wanted something, and I mean, really truly wanted something from the bottom of my heart, I would dream about it; it was the last thing I thought about before I fell asleep and the first thing that shimmered into my mind when I awoke the next morning.

As I've grown older, those dreams have started to appear less frequently. I have a feeling this is because, as a kid, you dream of the things you want because you really have no way of attaining them; you're usually reliant on someone else (mom, dad, grandpa, Santa, etc.) to make those dreams a reality. But as an "adult," you simply make the decision. The ethereal dreams and desires and replaced by a decision and a credit card.

But the last few weeks have been different. I've been having those dreams again. I've been trailing off to sleep with images flashing through my mind of one thing and one thing only: my new bike. It's consumed me. Every fiber of my being has been channeled into this singular, two-wheeled, fully suspended, singletrack loving, rock garden owning phantom.

And then, last Tuesday, that phantom realized itself in the form of a 50-pound cardboard box.