Two Wheels and the Open Road

I bought a new bike a couple of weeks ago. While that may sound rather ordinary, for me it was a reckoning of sorts. It meant accepting that the bike I’ve owned for 30 years was built for the body I had 30 years ago. A few things have changed.

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Shoulders that used to handle leaning over handlebars don’t really appreciate that position anymore. Nor did my neck enjoy hunching forward and supporting my big old melon head. 

Darn it all, but the body knows the score. It reminds me even if I don’t care to admit it.

The time arrived to accept the old bike design didn’t match current needs. I no longer bike for hours and hours like in the old days. (Read about one such story here.) Today’s rides focus on enjoying the scenery more than logging the miles. This fall, our newly-empty nest created more opportunities to use a bike for everyday stuff like running errands, picking up groceries, or visiting friends. Apparently, over the years my bicycling vibe changed from how-many-calories-did-I-burn to let’s-go-enjoy-the-fall-colors. I like that. The latter may not be as fit, but she’s a lot more fun.

Ah, life and its many stages! 

I found my new ride immediately at the local bike shop. (Just around the corner from the wine shop. Go figure!) Super comfortable, she reminded me of childhood. As I biked home, the wind tousled my hair. Fresh fall air cooled my cheeks. Fallen leaves skittered and crunched under the tires. It felt so kidlike. It felt like the freedom kids experience when summer vacation begins. Remember how that felt? When the whole day of who-knows-what stretched into the unknown…at least until dinnertime.

Two wheels and an open road. That’s what the feel.

Way back then, I rode a beat-up blue Schwinn named Fury after the horse in the b&w 60s television series. I’m too young to remember the show in prime time, so assume the name–like the bike–was handed down.

Fury had fat tires, rusted fenders, no speeds, and a faded blue seat with the branded curlicue “S” indicating its maker. She was a hand-me-down’s hand-me-down, heavy as all hell and well-used. I don’t recall her ever breaking down or slipping a chain. Her tires whirred “womp-womp-womp” on the pavement and her pedals were wide and worn. She wasn’t pretty, but she got me where I needed to go, even if I blushed a little at her looks.

On my 12^th birthday, my parents took me to the local sporting goods store to select my very first new bike. This was a big event. Being the fifth daughter, I rarely experienced the first run of anything: clothes, shoes, toys, or bikes. I vividly remember walking amongst the aisles of new bikes, their front tires all aligned at perfect angles. The store’s fluorescent lights hummed. I recall the acrid smell of brand-new bike tires and the seriousness I felt about this decision. When we left the shop, I owned a Schwinn 10-speed with skinny tires, curved handlebars, and a boy’s frame.  Painted a sexy bright red, she was designed for roads, not fields. 

Overnight, I leaped from tractor to Masserati.

Although I’ve owned many bikes over the years, none–’til now–reminded me of good old Fury. The steadiness. The reliability. The freedom.

How funny…all this time later, that appeals again. I knew what I wanted immediately when I walked into that bike shop, and it’s precisely what I didn’t want all those years ago. 

Last week as I pedaled my way through a quiet section of town, I lifted my hands off the handlebars and found my balance. It all still lingered from childhood…the freedom, the joy, the wonder. That little girl inside me hooted with happiness.

I’m glad that funny kid is my co-pilot once again. Her skinned knees and bowl haircut rode no-handed through life before adult-sized problems appeared. I’m awfully thankful to have her around as a reminder. And now that our nest has emptied…at least for the school year…it’s a joy to pedal into this next phase of life feeling the openness of new roads ahead.

Cheers!