Jackie Wells-Fauth
This morning while eating my breakfast in a small café in town, I happened to look up in time to see an extraordinary young lady come in, wearing a biking suit and helmet. I am aware of that stigma we small towners have where we tend to stare at anyone who is new, but I will admit to observing her from a distance.
She answered the questions of the friendly people who greeted her and she let them know where she’d been and where she was going. I will admit, I’m very jealous: the question is, am I jealous enough to get back on a bike myself? I tend to think no.
Now, I’m not crazy (at least, that’s my opinion); I would never attempt, as this young lady was, to ride a bike all through the United States, coast to coast. However, I have frequently thought in these last years that getting back on a bike for me holds some real benefits.
I learned to ride a bike late in life. While all of my other friends and relatives were wheeling along, I, at 8 years old, still hadn’t conquered two-wheel transportation. One of the neighbor boys became impatient with this situation and finally terrified me into riding the bike by running along beside me as I wobbled along, shouting, “Don’t you stop, don’t you dare put your feet down or else!” Later, he admitted that he didn’t know what the “or else” was going to be, but since I chose to believe the threat, I almost inadvertently, finally learned to ride the bike.
I kept it up sporadically through my young adulthood and my first years of motherhood. It was handy to put my non-napper child in the car seat and just keep riding until I could feel her sleep-heavy body slumped up against me. When my children became too old to use the bike as a mechanical sedative, I put it away.
Several times later, always in a fever-induced moment, I would decide it was in my best interest to ride a bike again. I needed the exercise and fresh air. Bike riding had always been fun; why not? After I had gotten the bike out, dusted it off, filled the tires with air (twice) and got a couple of feet down the road, I would remember why not. Bike riding is hard work!
I know I should be ashamed to say that, having encountered the young lady this morning who is riding across country, but honestly, I wouldn’t get from Miller to St. Lawrence (all of 1 mile) before I’d be praying for a five-star restaurant to appear before me—attached to a luxury hotel and casino.
I have never envied those biking enthusiasts who ride cross country on their cycles. We pass them frequently in the car, bent over their bikes in the rain, hot sun and high wind and when I see them trudging uphill, I want to volunteer to tie them to the bumper of my car—not that they would probably appreciate that! My youngest grandson (who learned it from his older brothers) thinks a good mountain bike ride is taking his little trike to the top of the driveway, shoving off with his feet and then holding them up to allow the downward curve of the drive to propel him to the bottom. I am with him in this regard!
So, while travel by bicycle may have its good points (I am at a loss for the moment about what those are) I still think I will find some other way to be an active member of society and my knees and back concur with me on this decision.
Nonetheless, the young lady this morning did give me pause. In her cross-country trip, she said that there was no real plan, just wherever they wanted to go. I have always liked the spontaneity of that. In addition, and perhaps an even bigger draw, was that this biker was reed slim and sat down to the biggest and best breakfast I had ever seen.
While she was enjoying the meal and exchanging pleasant conversation with some of the other diners, I once again thought, “Perhaps I need to get the bike out and go for at least a short ride. What could it hurt?”
And my subconscious answered, “Your back, your knees, your ankles, your disposition and your relationship with those who have to deal with you after you have fallen off a few times. Besides, you sold that bike ten years ago.”
So, to all those bikers out there who are diligently on the road, getting exercise and experience, I say: I’ll be watching you… from my deck…with a large glass of iced tea…and a great deal of admiration!
dropsinthewell 