I spent the entire summer prepping and packing for Burning Man, from my glittery costumes to my head lamp and bike lights.
The global event in Black Rock City, Nevada would be held just a few months after the finalization of my divorce.
During my marriage, I never dreamt I would one day make a solo trek to the hot Nevada desert — comfort was my middle name! However, I was learning to embrace adventure and change on my new path forward.
Shortly after my arrival, however, I realized that I had left my common sense behind. The vast desert land spanned seven miles, and the art installations were miles away from my campsite. Now I understood why all the photos I had seen included crowds of bicycles and art cars!
Walking was out of the question.
One could never begin to do or see everything at Burning Man, but at least a bicycle gave a participant a fighting chance.
I shook my head in disbelief.
Despite having packed day-glo bike lights, I had no idea how to ride a bike! The countryside where I grew up is characterized by its beautiful rolling hills with neither a sidewalk or a shoulder; a bike was never part of my childhood.
I got the knack of it one summer vacationing as a child in Ocean City but my next attempt a few years later led to a crash and a painful gash on my foot!
What had I gotten myself into?!
“Where better to learn how to ride a bike than at Burning Man?” said my friend Sunshine with a smile.
With the dust storms, intense heat, massive crowds, and the raucous party atmosphere I could think of many better places, but I just rolled my eyes and laughed.
“No time like the present!” I told myself hopping on a bike and wavering back and forth to maintain my balance.
But then all of a sudden, I had it. I was in the flow! I was riding a bike!
A sequined burner, long brown hair flying in the wind.
She reached out to me to say hello and pass me a note. I almost collided as I grabbed the note, pedaling a few more paces before landing in a heap on the ground.
I looked around sheepishly, shaking my head with embarrassment.
Burning Man was definitely not the best place to learn how to ride a bike!
I opened the note, folded several times origami-like fashion:
“You are beautiful,” it read.
I couldn’t help but smile. I dusted myself off, hopped back up on the bike, and tried again!
Day after day I struggled, sometimes feeling like I finally got it down only to take a spill the next time out.
My goal was to ride out to playa on Burn Night to watch the burning of the Man. It would be Saturday night, my last night there.
Saturday came fast and not long after the heat broke, night followed.
Despite the darkness and the noise, I maintained my calm and my focus and steadied myself on the bike. It felt like magic as I rode, weaving through the crowds with ease!
After hours enjoying the playa, I rode back to my home camp in Home Rule Village where I spent the rest of the night relaxing in the Cloud Nine Sky Lounge, a chill space on the fourth floor of the five story tower my camp mates had built the week before.
Then shortly before sunset, I fell asleep.
How long had I slept on the tower? It had been such a peaceful rest, a contrast to my other sleepless nights there. Was it 10 a.m.? 11 a.m.?
My bus left at 2 p.m. for the Reno airport. I was making an early departure so I could be home for my children’s first day at their new school.
“Anyone know the time?” I asked around.
“1:15,” someone shouted back.
I had to be at the bus depot at 1:30! I wasn’t even packed. I could never make it.
I raced back to my tent, searching for my wallet and phone. I grabbed the essentials. Fortunately, Sunshine was staying longer and would pack the rest of my things and bring them back home.
I jumped on my bike and took off for the bus depot with Sunshine one-wheeling besides me.
I maintained my balance — and my composure — and pulled into the depot just as the clock struck 1:25. I even had five minutes to spare!
I handed my bike to Sunshine and with a heavy sigh of relief, I boarded the air-conditioned bus, rested my head against the window, and closed my eyes.
What would have happened if I had not finally learned how to ride the bike, just the night before? I never would have made it to the bus depot in time. I would have missed the plane ride back and missed my children’s first day at a new school.
My determination to ride my bike on Burn Night paid off far more than I could have ever imagined!
It was so tempting to wallow in frustration, self-doubt, and regret until I realized one thing:
The only way out is through.
and then SD Said:
My Dad’s RV makes it back from Burning Man! Even with all the rain and mud on the playa, everything looks good. Yes it’s nice and dusty, but we’ve been doing this for years and it’ll shine up like new! Glad everything went well and a great visit with Dad. #burningman2023 
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