What kind of wheels do you have?
Do they tell your story? Can wheels teach us anything about life?
From strollers to bikes
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| Photo courtesy of John Kasawa at FreeDigitalPhotos.net |
My first set of wheels preceded
my earliest memories. I was a babe in a stroller with my mother pushing me
through time and space, introducing me to the world, and the world to me.
My tricycle was an empowering set
of wheels that allowed me to chase after my older sisters on their bicycles,
until they reached the corner at the end of the street. The corner was my “stop”
sign, and it meant head for home.
If the tricycle was empowering,
bicycles gave me a whole new experience of freedom. From the shiny, blue
bicycle I received on my seventh birthday to the 10-speed road bike that
carried me through the high school years, bicycles opened up the world to me,
enabling me to travel around corners and tackle steeper roads.
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| Image courtesy of zirconicusso at FreeDigitalPhotos.net |
From cool cars to mini vans
During my university years, I
drove around in my sisters’ classic 1967 white Ford Mustang, a car that my
father bought for a song, and lovingly restored. Just when I thought I had arrived at the height of coolness,
cruising around Vancouver in the Mustang, life moved on, and with it, my
sisters, who sold their car.
Tony, a blue Toyota Corolla,
entered my life when my younger sister arrived at university. While the Corolla was not nearly as
cool as the Mustang, owning a car was something of a status symbol, and I felt
pretty special. However, life continued its forward march. I married, leaving
Tony behind with my little sister who drove it for another two decades.
My husband and I started out with
Homer Honda, his zippy, copper-coloured Civic hatchback. It was small enough
that he could push it up a steep driveway on a winter’s morning as I gave it
the gas, and nearly asphyxiated him. It was fun and sporty; the perfect car for
a young, carefree couple ready to rock on down the highway.
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| Image courtesy of mapichai at FreeDigitalPhotos.net |
With the birth of our second
child, we graduated to a Civic Sedan. It wasn’t long before two children were
three, the Civic became an Accord, and we bought a second car, a red Mazda
Protégé to transport kids to activities. Before long, we caved into the
pressure from three kids cramped in the back seat, and “upgraded” to the
mini-van we named Dream Chaser. We
had traded “cool” for the meaningful responsibilities and rewarding
relationships of family life.
When I was twenty something, I
found it amusing that “old” (fifty something) men drove around in sports cars.
I get it now, being fifty something myself. Middle age is one of those quick
stops on the highway of life when we can comfortably own a sporty car. So while
I still drive a sedan, there is also a coupe at my disposal.
Wheels of the future
It’s hard to say what wheels are
in my future. Maybe my trike will reappear as a motorized scooter, or my
two-wheeler as a wheelchair with someone pushing me once again.
From stroller to coupe, my wheels
have corresponded to the phases of my life. They have been symbolic of the transitions from infancy and
dependency to adulthood and responsibility. With each transition, there came a
developing awareness of personhood and life. And just as a wheel once set in motion revolves until it
runs out of steam or someone applies the brakes, my life and my understanding
of life continue to evolve.
From the empowerment that came
with madly pedaling my tricycle to the joy of pursuing my children’s dreams in
a mini-van, from the skinned knees of falling off my bicycle to a car crash
that left me shaken, wheels symbolically tell the story of my life,
representing its ups and downs, the easy drives and the tough journeys.
Rounding out corners and expanding boundaries, wheels chart our progress from
beginning to end, reminding us that nothing is permanent and that change is
always certain.
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