Multiplying Report 8

The ninth day I turned my gaze to the east; the morning was waking me and caught sight of my bicycle wheel. I set off down that steep descent, crossing the fresh, young air; through the hairpin bends across the clearing one could make out the roofs of the houses of Desulo. The roads I met one after another were not very busy; now and then I crossed some polite car that greeted my passing, but I was not of a mind to share this intoxication of mine with them: they were symbolic, I imaginary (they were me, I lay in thought, which by its nature cannot be shared). I stopped, not for pleasure but only for the due advance of the real.

The bicycle slots its saddle and its handlebar onto a frame that is supported by two wheels; the first, not in importance, is called the front one, and is free to the kinetic motion it undergoes, and now and then is directed along a path not always natural to it, while the second, called the rear, supports, beyond the weight of the rider, and distributes the motion along the route; its way of being is rigid and inflexible, but that is its nature, because otherwise it is also called free, but not in a universal sense, only in relation to the moment in which it becomes possible in only one direction, the direction of the front wheel — perhaps it would be more correct to call it constrained. On it are mounted a series of gears called chainrings, arranged in an aligned and concentric way, from largest to smallest, differing not only in size but in number of teeth.

Convenient for the rider, for the extension of his lower limbs, is a system of opposed levers called cranks, which transmit the practised motion to toothed wheels, tending to be larger than the previous ones, but only by the intended final result. At this point one will wonder whether the result is the fruit of a miracle or something else; well, everything is held together by the transmission — yes, a chain called a transmission chain allows the miracle of being able to do anything. Every rider, and not only, must act through the transmission, whatever it may be; it is the sine qua non condition. Brakes are necessary only when the necessary transmission fails. I somehow managed to set off again... after the breakdown, likely a consequence of what happened to me a few days ago... the chain had abandoned me.

The first village I could reach did not allow me any great results for continuing my journey; a coach helped me, with which we reached Isili. There I helped the cyclist repair the bicycle. That passing smile I met on the young girl cheered my day, leaving me the hope of meeting her again. I found hospitality for the night under an uncomfortable orchard at Gésturi.