Riding and Flying Over Mountains

In retrospect, what is “value?” How can you put a price on something? Is there even really a way to know how much something is worth? And to further push the subject, is everything worth the same to everybody? For example, to a mother shopping in the grocery store, a bottle of water in on of the refrigerators means paying $1.00. However, to a man who has been jogging for over a mile and who mouth is pasty with thirst, the bottle means hydration, a rush of cool liquid down his hot throat, the feeling of relief as his muscles relax and his breath slows, and a surge of energy soaks through his body. And when you think about it, water is the most abundant substance on our planet, making it virtually worthless. Yet, without water, life on Earth and life anywhere in the universe (as far as we know) cannot exist, so water is virtually priceless. Those are four very different values of just a simple bottle of water, which shows just how complex a concept worth can be to evaluate when given considerable thought.

I open my eyes slowly, which is no easy task because of the harsh weight of my eyelids. They encase my eyes in warm, welcoming darkness, and their weight feels like a slap to the face, saying, “You are not getting up yet.” Unfortunately, in my mind, I am forced to reply, “Oh yes, I am,” and I more-then-reluctantly throw the sheets and blankets off of me, exposing my lethargic body to the algid air hovering above me like a predator. Immediately, my muscles tense at the change in temperature, and I mutter in my head, “Getting up will make you warmer,” so, after a moment, I slump to my feet.




Suddenly, I feel dizzy: as slow as I have gotten up, my brain must adjust to the vertical position that I have forced myself into. I wobble for a moment, but after a moment my head clears, and I wrench open my crusty eyes. The room appears to be dark, but I allow my eyes to adjust, and I realize… that the room really is dark. Even the sun has not awakened yet. I think to myself, looking at the clock (5:45 a.m.), “There ought to be a law.” Outside, snow has piled up on the windowsill, plunging my room into even further darkness. My freezing feet wiggle, longing for slippers.

Just then, my mother, not seeming any happier to be awake then I feel, pokes her head in and says, “Too much snow; no school.” My priceless moment has reached its climax, and inside my joy is expressed with cheers and shouts and confetti, but externally, I merely yawn and return to bed with a nod. The unbearable weight of my body leaves my feet as I lay back on my mattress and the body heat that I just left there hugs me. My groggy eyes find my covers and my nearly dead brain tells my hands to perform one final act before sleep returns, and that is to pull the covers over my body. My hands obey, and the sheets and blanket are gently thrown over my body once again. My muscles relax, the warmth encases me, and within seconds, the pain of even thinking this early leaves as I fall into the reprise of my slumber. This wonderful scene I have depicted happens on any snow day during the winter, and it is one of the most priceless moments I can think of.

In the warmer months, particularly when there is no school to wake me up so early in the morning, I enjoy afternoon rides on my bike, one of my most prized possessions. Although it may look like an ordinary mountain bike from someone else's view, to me, each feature of it stands out exceptionally. My bike is greener than the pine trees that I soar past while riding it, and it shines incredibly in the sunlight, blinding anyone who looks at it. It’s the perfect height for me, with a seat as black as night, strong enough to support me, yet soft enough so that I am comfortable while I ride (something that cannot be said for a lot of bike seats, as you may know). With it, I can travel anywhere I want to. I ride all up and down town, feeling the breeze on my face, taking in nature left and right.

I haven’t always had the bike that I own today. I started off owning a smaller bike, turqoise, and with training wheels. I received it on my 6th birthday, and I loved it for years. But when I was finally old enough to ride a two-wheel bike, I sold my little bike and bought a red mountain bike, much bigger than my old one, and I used that one for years. Then, just a few years ago, my dad surprised me with the spectacular green mountain bike, my prized bike that I own today.

In many ways, my priceless moment and my bike are very similar. They both allow me to travel, one physically, and the other, in my mind. With my bike I can ride around town, getting good exercise and seeing the sights, and while sleeping I can dream myself to places both nonexistent and fantastic at the same time. By the end of both a bikeride and being told to go back to bed, I am exhausted and ready to lie down again.

In the same way, my moment and item are very different. With one I can ride up a mountain, and with the other I can soar over a mountain. One I use whenever I’m up and ready for exercise, while the other occurrs when I’m ready to collapse from exhaustion, only to find that I can do so in my welcoming bed. My priceless moment will never occurr on a weekend because there is no school on any weekend, while I don’t tend to have time to ride my bike during the week. With one I am active and moving and full of energy, while in the other I am groggy, sluggish, and unwilling to move.

In conclusion, there really is no way to put a price on something or to efficiently evaluate something’s worth. Everything is worth different amounts to different people. My bike may be worth $100 to someone wanting to buy it at a tag sale in the future, but to me, right now, it’s worth much more than that because it allows me to get around to the places that I want to go. My moment that I described could never have a price put on it because it is the greatest feeling on this Earth to know that you can return to sleep when you want to so badly. Value and worth are such tricky concepts, but when something is very valuable, it is not so much that I intend to guess its price, but more that I will simply try to enjoy the qualities that make it so priceless.