It's Like Riding a Bike....My Bum Would Beg to Differ

You know that saying.  Everyone does.  But when it's about getting back on an actual bicycle after a long sabbatical...does it still apply?

Research says no.  Who's research?  Mine and my bruised and battered little body's.

Ewww! This wasn't mine, but nice to know I'm not alone!

You see, I've never been the most talented rider of a bike.  There was that time in Austin, Texas when my sister and her husband decided it was a good idea to take me on a bike tour of the city... when in the span of one day I managed to fall into a shrub in front of a nice government building, run over a squirrel while screaming and get left behind at a stop light because I couldn't get my feet to work the peddles in a manner that propelled me forward.  Yep. All in one bike ride.

Needless to say when Ox's brother loaned me a bike to tool around our new picturesque town, I was very excited.  I envision myself as outdoorsy and campy; the kinda gal that can handle a bike at least.  Apparently no.

I had a decent sense of apprehension when I brought the bike home.  I hid from the children in my neighborhood and wouldn't test out the bike on week nights - "Too big an audience" and "What if they make fun of me for not having an helmet?" were my pat reasons for not taking the bike on its maiden voyage when Ox asked why it was still hanging out in the office.

Then came Saturday - no more excuses time.  Ox gave me a pep talk, helped me pick out gear to wear with such intellectual gems as "Now Pretty, you really can't be serious trying to wear flip flops on this bike."  Which I declared was my attempt at blending in and not looking like such a noob.  But then I shuffled back to the closet and dutifully changed into my sneakers.

There were no more excuses.  I walked the bike out the front door, I wiggled the seat, I checked the brakes...then I climbed on.  Holding my breath I chanted to myself "It's like riding a bike, it's like riding a bike..." and I peddled around the flat street of our 'hood.  Slowly but surely I felt a bit more secure, I fiddled with the gears and sort of understood what to do with them again.  I smiled as the air rushed by me and I felt a sense of freedom and joy as I enjoyed the sunny morning.

After my first loop I felt brave so I stopped by the house to talk to Ox about a weird noise the chain was making and to get the keys to go check the mail - I was ready for my first bike mission.

I left the house with the keys and rode on.  I was free, I was a biker!  It was happening.  So, I decided to take a jaunt down the road to the main road and see how I felt about riding on the shoulder.  I felt brave.  I nosed my way onto the shoulder, excitedly thinking about how many miles I could knock out before Ox would miss me.

I peddled along and then WOOSH!!! the first car past me.  I wobbled along, I felt a flush to my face and I my knuckles turned white.  I quickly turned into the first driveway I could and I knew that was as far as I'd go.  I stopped for a moment, feeling quite silly as a pack of teenagers rode past me on the other side of the street.  I relaxed and decided that maybe that was enough adventure, after all Ox was waiting.  So, I scurried back to the safety of our street - feeling sure no one would be the wiser for my lack of biking ability.  I'd get better after a few journeys, no worries.  I'd done well for my first trip out.

On the way back to the house I stopped by the mail.  Now you see, I'm apparently far more attractive to retailers as I get all the mail in our household, Ox gets next to nothing.   Well, at least he USED to not get anything.  But this particular Saturday - everyone decided he was a shopping god.  There were at least 3 catalogs and several letters all addressed to Ox!  It was a bit more than just a letter or two (our typical postal haul) but I thought, I'm a big girl, I used to ride one handed all the time as a kid - this is no sweat.  Plus our house is less than a block away, what could happen?

Oh yeah.  That's the thought -- ya know the one you have right before you have a serious problem - "What could go wrong?"  Oh I'll tell ya what.  I'm peddling along, down the gentle slope towards our home when I start to wobble, I drop one letter - I think, "Oh I'll walk back for that, no worries."  I try to right myself, but to no avail and then apparently in my extra graceful manner close one hand around the brake lever...just one you see....the one for the front tire.  Then I proceed to go sailing over the handle bars, mail trailing behind me.  I squealed as I somersaulted over the front tire.  The right handle bar finds safety in the tissue of my right quadricep and I collapse in a pile of mail and tears in the grass.  Ox calls from our house, giggling, "are you okay?!?"  He hadn't seen the fall only heard my squeak - I cry out "NO!"

He comes running and collects me, the mail and the bike.  I hop into the house and collapse on the floor sobbing for my broken pride, scraped calf and quickly bruising hip.  Just then I hear a small child cry out "MOM!  Did you see that!??!?"

I didn't leave the house for a full 24 hours.  I consoled myself with a good book - Pat Conroy's poetic southern novel about family, friendship and marriage - South on Broad and some classic boiled then slow roasted, finger-lickin' pork ribs from scratch (I adapted the recipe a bit and added in a full on rub).

Sunday Ox's brother called the next day saying he actually needed the bike sooner than he thought -- needless to say, I didn't give him much of a fight.