Well, I’ve finally done it. I’ve broken down and gotten a
bike.
At the urging of my son, so he’ll have a partner to dash around
town with all summer, and my wife who bought a car, a new bike
herself, seven new purses and a dozen shoes – they figured I owed
myself something that would keep me active.
Well, I’ve finally done it. I’ve broken down and gotten a bike.
At the urging of my son, so he’ll have a partner to dash around town with all summer, and my wife who bought a car, a new bike herself, seven new purses and a dozen shoes – they figured I owed myself something that would keep me active.
So on Father’s Day they presented me with a gift that I had to ride home with under-inflated tires and an out-of-conditioned body.
With gas prices rising, maybe this will be my mode of transportation in the future. I’ll just have to figure out how to hook up that U-Haul trailer to the back with the brake lights intact.
Now, my bike wasn’t made at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory where they monitor rockets, nor was it built by a contraption engineer so I can reach speeds faster than sound.
No, mine was assembled by Bobby Bicycle in probably a mere five minutes using nothing but a crescent wrench and no directions in sight. In fact, he most likely did two at a time.
If you left the assembly up to me with no directions, my sleek mountain bike with snazzy shock absorbers would probably resemble an erector set disaster with wheels. People would wonder why my brakes are attached to the gears and why my rear reflector is on the handlebars.
Eventually, I’ll buy a helmet because it’s the law. I’m going to purchase the model that has the little rear view mirror, windshield wipers, a blue tooth – because I need to be hands free by July – stereo headphones and a spray mister to keep my head cool.
I went online and found I can add additional accessories like a warning siren that sounds when my tires aren’t inflated all the way, handlebar grips that have warmers in them for cold days, and an auto bike, which allows me to steer with no hands so I can carry the groceries home from the market.
One thing for sure about my new two-wheeler is that I haven’t quite figured out the gears. I mean, what’s the difference between fifth and sixth gear? My rational here is that I need only two: One to get up the hill so my legs don’t cramp up and one to speed by that slow poke in the Yugo. Incidentally, my bike is six inches longer and twenty pounds heavier than that particular car.
In the directions written by the rocket scientist on how your bike operates, they instruct you on how easy it is to change gears while you’re riding. Well, I could have just as easily read the directions in French because this is one of those times where it’s easier said than done.
Turn the right gear at the edge of your handlebar to six, the left gear to three; then take your foot off the pedal and wait for the clanging noise of the chain hitting the fender, is what the instructions said. At least I think that’s what it said. And that’s exactly what happened.
Since my particular model is a mountain bike, my aforementioned shock absorbers prevented me from sustaining major injury in the seat area as I rumbled into the curb. Good thing I wasn’t making the trek up Mount Hamilton.
Actually, this bike I purchased has gears for rainy days, gears for odd numbered days and ones that have me expend every ounce of energy to reach a cruising speed of four miles per hour. Coming to a stop sign is a blessing.
I refuse to wear spandex pants, a multi-colored shirt that looks like a foreign country’s flag or shoes that look and feel three sizes too small. I’m leaving that to Lance Armstrong. My tour is to the 7-11 not the Eiffel Tower.
Sandals, my T-shirt from In-N-Out Burger and swim trunks, will be my fashion statement as I race around bike lanes that exist and ones that don’t. No bike lanes? Well, if that happens, I’ll just hold up traffic like other bicyclists do on a two-lane highway.
Bicycles have come a long way since my first Schwinn. I never had a GPS unit like my current one does and I never imagined shock absorbers on a bike so I don’t spill my coffee. What topped it off for me was the rear view camera mounted on my handlebars to see traffic behind me.
This camera, though, has come in handy many times as I shot across four lanes of traffic to avoid the left hand turn lane at the upcoming intersection. I guess I broke some type of law but I haven’t managed to get my copy of the Bike Book for Dummies yet.
My wife and son were thoughtful with their gift for me and I couldn’t thank them enough. They just can’t keep up with me now and probably wished they had gotten me a skateboard instead.
Rich Taylor has been coaching youth sports for over 25 years, is the Co-Director of the ACE Powerband national arm strengthening program and formerly scouted and coached in professional baseball. His column, A Sideline View, appears once a week. Reach him at [email protected]
