But no matter what i do on the bike, how hard and far i push, no matter how much i vomit, i know that Dad, at the end, had it rougher. The degeneration of the body is infinitely harder to experience, I imagine, than to push it to its limits.
Dad used to see me come home from a hard ride, often I would be speechless and trembling from exertion, and would usually just look at me and say: "You're a silly bastard, dunno why you do that to yourself."
Maybe it's to confirm I'm alive.
Dad listened to Blondie. Dunno why he did that to himself, silly bastard.