Thursday, October 11, 2012

A Bike?

The only modes of transportation we had as children were walking or riding a bike. It was a good vacation if your dad managed to find room to take your bike with you.  It meant you would be racing around The Point on two wheels rather than hoofing it.  It meant you could make it into town in a few minutes instead of 30+ which meant trips to the Stop & Shop for fireworks.

Fast forward to July of 2012.  Big E and I are preparing for a weekend camping trip, and he's excited about a surprise he has for me.  I'm excited too. I love surprises. So I walk around to the back of his truck, and he shows me the bike he's purchased for me.  And my first thought is "A Bike?" Not because I have anything at all against bikes.  I spent much of my youth on a bike flying down Stafford Drive with no hands, cruising through town and doing bunny hops over in the Votech parking lot (all of which were done without a helmet). But the operative word here is youth. I'm not a kid anymore. I'm an adult and a parent who is well versed in every possible worst case scenario that could befall someone in any given situation.  And I haven't been on a bike in at least 20 years. Did I really want to be the one testing to see if bike riding was really "just like riding a bike"?

While I wasn't able to test any theories about bike riding on that particular trip (we hiked 10+ miles, my legs were shot), we did bring the bikes along on the second camping trip.  And this time, I wasn't given an opportunity to not ride.  Big E arranged for our friends to drive the kids over to the lake while we rode our bikes. Here I was, not sure I was in good enough physical condition to ride a bike, not sure I had the balance to ride a bike and not having any recent experience with riding a bike now throwing my leg over a bike and hitting the trail.

Riding a bike is, in fact, "just like riding a bike". Your muscles and brain remember what to do and eventually you stop riding your brakes like a 98 year old driver in a Buick and you let yourself fly down the hills.  I loved it.

So I took my bike to Deltaville for the week on the off chance I'd be able to ride it.  One afternoon I snuck out and rode around The Point.  I rode down the lane towards town and on the way back to the house, I rode down the sandy lane that my cousins and I referred to as "The Shortcut".  I was 10 again. I was a centaur on wheels.

I love, love, love this guy.

He knew what I wanted when I didn't even know I wanted it. And in giving me a bike, he gave me the ability to relive happy moments of my childhood. Rest assured, that bike is going with me on each of my treks to Deltaville.  Photography from bike seat is probably easier than photography from moving car.

Oh the adventures I'm going to relive!


  1. ride on! how fun .. i used to love riding my bike around the development my parents lived in down in Florida ...