Bicycles

The other day on the way home from grocery shopping, we saw a lone bicycle rider pedaling 90 to nothing in the right hand lane of a feeder road. Traffic moves as fast as it does on the freeways and I remarked that apparently Houston didn’t have bike lanes and the guy we just passed would be lucky to get where he wanted to go without getting killed. My son, who was driving, said that Houston does have bike lanes but our errands rarely take us near them.

It has been years since I rode a bike. I enjoyed biking, but I never developed the skill of total control. My first experience was during the summer between third and fourth grade. Several of my siblings and I had gone to the park along the river near the dam to play on the swings and rings. A boy from my class rode up with his new birthday bike to show off. He let a couple of boys ride it to the end of the block and back and I asked if I could have a turn. He asked if I knew how to ride a bike, and I told him, "Of course!" I had never been on a bike but I had confidence that what the boys could do, I could too. I asked him if it would be all right if I rode to my house and came right back. He asked how long it would take and I said a few minutes. He grudgingly gave me permission and I got on the bike. It was a shaky moment but, once I got on the seat and started pedaling, things when as they should. I did have to pedal rather fast to keep my balance but all went well until I got to my house and turned to go back to the park. I made a wide circle but it wasn’t wide enough and the bike ran up on the sidewalk and headlong into a tree. To keep from falling completely over, I had to skip/jump on one leg but the bike scraped my knee and leg as it went side ways. I quickly looked the bike over for damage but it was ok. My leg hurt a lot, but I was determined not to let the boy know I had a fall. When I got back to the park the boy was irate because I had been gone so long but I reminded him that he knew where I lived and he had given me permission and besides, I went there and right back!

During the depression years when we lived on the asparagus farm, the folks bought a bike for the boys to share. Adeline and I, being older than the boys, wanted a bike too, but the folks couldn’t afford it. The boys took to the bike like a duck to water. Jerry, the youngest, was too small to ride, but that didn’t stop him. He developed a style of swinging his body back and forth across the seat, dropping his weight down on the pedal as it reached the high point and shoving the pedal down as hard as he could to bring the pedal up on the other side.

Many years ago when my husband and I lived in the country house outside of Paris, the women in the small village invited me to go biking with them on Saturday mornings to shop in the near by town about 10 or 15 kilometers away. Neither we nor the villagers owned a car. My husband and I walked the three miles to the train station or paid a farmer’s son to take us by horse and wagon. We didn’t have a bicycle either, but the women said they would furnish the bike if I wanted to join them. The bicycle was not like an American bike. It was very high off the ground and I needed help just to get on the seat! There was a basket on the front for carrying groceries but I knew from past experience that if I put in anything weighing more than a feather, I’d probably lose my balance. I was along for the ride more than the groceries. Within a few minutes it was obvious that I was not able to keep up with the others and I began to lag farther and farther behind. One or two of them came back to encourage me to go faster so we could get home before the heat of the day reached a high point. I had never used handle bar brakes and I was warned about not coming to an abrupt halt. At the speeds the women traveled, a sudden halt would have been fatal. I was able to make the trip without mishap, but I refused all ensuing invitations. I think the women only asked out of courtesy and were secretly pleased when I didn’t join them a second time.

The last time I was on a bike was in Palo Alto, back in the 70s when I took my daughter’s bike for a ride. I had a bike/car accident. The fact that the car was a block behind me doesn’t negate the accident. It was a sunny afternoon and I was riding down an empty street near the courthouse. I heard a car and turned to see how close it was and lost my balance. I landed on my keester and got scrapes and bruises and messed up the bike so bad it couldn’t be ridden. Of course the driver of the car never suspected he was the cause of the accident and went in another direction at the intersection. I had to walk the bike home and my aches and pains increased as hobbled home. My son often suggests I get an exercise bike, but at this stage of my life, I know my limitations!