With only a few minutes now until my plane home leaves, this really is the end of the trip. Once I get onto the plane and land back in London, there’ll be no more delusions that this trip hasn’t finished.
But that’s ok, because I know there’ll be more- more cycling, more people, more… syrup.
It’s been a great few days reward, having reached New York. We’ve explored the city, visited museums, walked through the beautiful High Line park, taken a ride on the 85 year old neck-shattering Cyclone roller coaster in Coney Island, and eaten more pizza than most people manage in a lifetime.
It still doesn’t actually feel real that we’re leaving, that the trip is all over. The last minute rush as the taxi pulled up, to make sure I had everything packed, and to tape up the crumpled cardboard boxes that contain everything I’ve needed for the last year of my life. Even the taxi ride there, which has to be the single most terrifying moment of this whole trip.
I always expected when it got to this point, the last few moments before returning home, that I’d be reflecting on the trip, and would have made a lot of profound insights about the world, the trip, and myself. Instead, in my half asleep state, I can only see a few fleeting memories from the trip. Mostly it just seems unreal to be going back home.
As anyone might know, especially those who have cycled with me over the past year, I am easily susceptible to having a song stick in my head, forcing me to sing it over and over again until I, or the person I’m with, go insane.
The songs are plentiful, and often change. But one song by the Bright Eyes has been with me since my very first day on the bike as I rolled through the streets of London, and is still playing over in my head as I’m sat in the waiting room of the airport…
Nothing to do with bikes, cycling, or this trip.
But then there’s more to life, I suppose…
So long for now…