I Want To Ride My Bicycle!

It may be one of my earliest childhood memories.  My sister and I shared an adorable little 1950′s pedal car.  My big sister pedaled and steered, and I sat on the back seat, responsible for key navigational advice. Surely that little car was the four-year old version of the Olympic luge, not just an advanced sled but an operation requiring heart and cutting-edge brainpower. We’d start at the top of the steep hill, and as the rear rider I alone bore the crucial duty of amassing that initial thrust and velocity.  With a brilliant running start from my chubby four-year old legs, we would bore into our precision driving machine and roar at the speed of light down Grover Street, stopping for no man or beast.  I can still hear my big sister squealing with delight from behind the helm of the steering wheel.

Every time we wanted to take the pedal car out for a spin, my mom would say,

You need to stop at every driveway and look both ways.

What, was she nuts?

It was a sad day when we left the Grover Street residence for a life in The Big Easy, leaving the little red pedal beauty behind.  Initially it was not a good trade-in for me.  New Orleans, Louisiana is a city that is so flat that they actually built a hill in a city park so children could understand what a hill is.  How’s a girl suppose to feel her adrenaline rush behind the wheel of her push car when surrounded by flatness as far as the eye can see?

Just when I knew my Olympic luge career was over, a little red Schwinn entered my life.   Laying aside the childish protection of training wheels, the day came that my Runs-With-Five-Year-Old Dad let go of the bicycle seat and I soared down Gillen Street on my very own.

Sweet Jesus….It was magic!

I can still feel the rush of exhilaration as I pedaled into that balmy New Orleans afternoon.

At some point my parents resigned to the fact that I was hell-on-wheels and added roller skates to my danger portfolio.  I wore my skate key much like a Chanel jewelry fashion accessory.  The years rolled by, and my parents indulged me and my big sister with the luxury of red scooters.  They were  a never-seen-before commodity in the neighborhood, but I didn’t care.  It had wheels.

By high school, along came a tandem bike.  We were spoiled.  The years and the vehicle had changed from the little red car, but my big sister was still at the helm. The laziness of being a teenager had set in, and on most occasions my sister would be pedaling up an Omaha hill as I pretended to assist in the endeavor.  Maybe the situation is a life metaphor, as my big sister now sits at the helm of international banking, and her wisdom guides third world economies.  Dang, she’s smart.

High school and the seventies also delivered the 10-speed bike frenzy, and I was back on track for reckless driving.  I had so much control over my green ten speed that I could zoom down the steep hill on Shirley Street with no brakes, no helmet, and no hands on the steering.

Woo hoo!  I’m an idiot!

Then I became a mom and it’s a universal mom truth that you don’t want your kids to be the idiot you were.  I don’t know where that aforementioned hell-on-wheels girl went.   She must’ve been replaced by a young mom, the kind who clutches onto the edges of the railing at Skateland and never rode a bike again.  The kind that even made her kids wear helmets while bike riding.

I must come to a screeching halt here and say the moral of the story is that I did everything to keep my kids safe, but I could not keep my daughter safe from cancer.  Compound that with the fact that my daughter never smoked, ran five miles a day, balanced her check book to the penny, and still was not immune to a rare and aggressive cancer.  Megan’s 2004 diagnosis started the wildest ride of my life, and taught me that life is too short to not take occasional risks.  This week on Facebook I saw a photo of a high school friend’s daughter sky diving, and for a split second I wished that I had done that with Megan.

Please know I’m not encouraging any reader to live recklessly.  Maybe I’m just making a pitch to live with more adventure, something that I regretfully laid aside once I had children.

As vivid as the flight down Grover Street in the little red car almost half a century ago, I remember being asked during the last year of Megan’s life: ‘what are you doing for fun?’  I began the dialogue of, “Well, I’m trying to get to the gym…” only to be interrupted with, “no, tell me what you like doing for fun.”

I was speechless.  What was I doing for fun?  I don’t know why it never occurred to me to say, “well, I used to love riding my bike…”

It’s taken me close to four years to answer the question, but last Friday the solution arrived when I purchased a brand new shiny silver Giant Sedona Hybrid 21-speed bike.  (Thank you, Megan’s dad, for the gift of the bike and Lisa and Joe for the pump and water bottle) I’m embarrassed to say that as I test drove my new ultimate driving machine, I wobbled across the Bike Masters parking lot.

What happened to that dare-devil girl?  Hell, who knows! but she’s back and ready to burn rubber up and down Bloomfield Drive.  Life is in motion now, and I plan on mastering my bike to the point that I could ride my bicycle with no hands on the handle bars.

Woo hoo!

Key Assignment:

• Take your child, friend, or spouse on some great adventure that you have always ‘sort of thought about’.  Email me your story and photos when you return.  It could be as simple as camping out in your back yard or complex as riding a zip line through the Amazon jungle.

Key Notes:

• It is not unusual to be lost as a caregiver.  No matter what extreme circumstances takes you to, there may still be time in life to rediscover life without your loved one.
• The above picture, “Remember the day you took off your training wheels” is an Audi ad that my parents mailed me years ago as a reminder of my joy in bike riding.
• It is a primary Bucket List goal to participate in the Leukemia Foundation Team in Training 100 mile bike ride.

On A Lighter Note:

• In spite of my rules, Ryan often rode his bike with no brakes, no helmet and no hands on the steering bar.
• If they haven’t learned already, I plan on teaching the neighbor kids how to ride with no hands.  Don’t tell their mom!
  
• Bicycle Race is a single by the English rock band Queen. It was released on their 1978 album Jazz and was written by Queen’s Freddie Mercury .  You can hear the song in its entirety on YouTube at Bicycle Race.
• The tandem bike had a horn (not a bell-ringer) to alert traffic as to our presence.  My new bike will have a bell-ringer painted with goldfish in memory of my daughter whose grade school nickname was Hawaiian Fish.
• My favorite bike movie line is from Terminator II when the T1000 says, “Say, that’s a nice bike…”
• Just in case my younger sister wants to mention that she did not have the little red pedal beauty, a red scooter, or a green ten speed bike (purchased with MY babysitting money), it should be noted that she got the cobalt blue convertible sports car.

Tags: Bicycle Race, Leukemia Foundation, Queen, Team in Training