The Bicycle

I've never been a bike-rider. Maybe I should say "cyclist"; the fact that I don't know which to use makes obvious my ignorance of the biking (cycling?) world. I haven't owned a bike since I was a kid, and the last two experiences I had with biking were in Mozambique, where I tried to ride and somehow felt I was the one exception to the rule that "once you learn how to ride a bicycle, you never forget," and in Tulsa, where I took a few spin classes at the Y after a (super amazing, athletic) friend invited me (I would never have tried it on my own).

I'm not sure why I never bought into the bike hype. I've had plenty of friends who bike and claim to really enjoy it. Maybe that experience in Mozambique scarred me; I just never felt the allure. Even when I lived in DC, where biking is more common than it is here in Oklahoma, I had no desire to buy a bike or go for a ride. Harvey would take the kids for rides, and I would happily stay home and enjoy a quiet house for an hour or two.

But this week I went for a ride. And I loved it.

My mother-in-law had two old bikes buried in her garage that she and my father-in-law never used anymore. She offered to give one of them, a vintage silver Raleigh Sports (circa 1975), to me and pay for us to take it to a bike shop and get it back in riding condition. We accepted, Harvey took the bike to the shop where she bought it all those years ago, and about a week later, it was ready for me. 

My "new" Raleigh bike with her handy basket

Now all of us had bikes (except Judah, who rides in a seat on the back of Harvey's), and we could go for family rides. My first time back on two wheels was a short ride a few blocks down our street and back with Harvey and the kids. The breeze on my face felt so good, and somehow I thought after a ride I'd be a sweaty mess (as I am after a run), but instead of exhausted I was refreshed.

A few days later, after I dropped the kids off at their schools and got back home, I decided to go for a ride by myself. The weather was perfect, around 75 degrees and sunny. I rode through my neighborhood, over the highway, and into the historic neighborhood east of ours. There was little traffic, so there wasn't that stress I'd anticipated of wondering whether I'd cause or be in an accident. It sounds silly to say it, but I just felt free, pedaling away, the fall air on my face and the loveliness of the trees and lawns there for me to enjoy without the barrier of a window.

I returned home just the right amount of tired and perfectly satisfied. What a nice way to spend half an hour of my morning. I expect there will be many more rides coming soon. After all, I didn't forget how to ride a bike--I just forgot how magical it can be.