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| Look mom, no shoes! |
Growing up, I was the kid that always had some type of cut or scratch (stitches, concussion, bruises, what have you). The one most violently burned into my memory was that of my first bike ride on my brand new big girl bike. Most girls can easily picture the bike. It was a Huffy one-speed with a banana seat accessorized with pom-pom streamers on the handlebars, a basket, and those damn clinky things on the spokes. This was well before Xzibit and Pimp My Ride existed but I think he’d be impressed even now.
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| That's not chocolate on my lip. |
On our virgin voyage, the fancy new bike and I went for a tumble. Being the speed demon I’ve always been, I took a turn too fast and face planted into the asphalt. The end result, a busted front lip as well as some nasty knee and palm scrapes. I did ride again but handed over the bike for rollerblades as soon as I could. So some 20 years later and in the spirit of new adventures, I climb back on the bike for the ride of a lifetime. (Someone please punch me for saying that).
On a recent trip to San Francisco, I thought that a bike ride across the Golden Gate Bridge would be a great idea. After hitting up Wikipedia, I learned that the bridge itself is only 1.7 miles so we’re looking at 5 miles max in my mind. NOT TRUE. The entire ride was 8-9 miles which still isn’t that far. But like any good tale, there’s always some mischief involved.
First of all, I am by myself on this ride without clearly marked paths and one very misleading map. A few miles in and I take a wrong turn and venture up a very steep San Francisco hill. Not sure of my move, I asked a few transportation workers their advice and well, they were wrong. After a few miles I knew this couldn’t be right so I found my way back to the original path. The only problem was that this involved picking up the bike (I’m guessing 30 pounds) and carrying it down several very steep flights of stairs. By this point I am beyond angry and a part of me wanted to just throw the bike down the stairs but I didn’t. I conquer the stairs only to find myself at the base of a monstrous hill. The idea of calling a cab starts floating around in my head. That was, of course, the first of many calf-screaming hills and not the last time I thought about calling a cab.
I made it across the bridge and down to Sausalito without incident and celebrated with a heavy beer and a sandwich on fresh sourdough. Good times!
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| Fake smile! |
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| Almost there! |
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| I'm on the bridge! |
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| And done! (real smile) |
Two things: One, I'm jealous of the ride in SFO...looks so beautiful. Two: I remember that day you ate the pavement. You came back, walking your bike, howling. Bless it. If you had just stuck with your Cabbage Patch Big Wheel, you would have been fine. Now that's a funny image — you on the Big Wheel, peddling across the Golden Gate!
ReplyDeleteScrew that big wheel too! Do you not remember the time that I decided to use the tops of my bare feet as break pads after racing down the lester's driveway?
ReplyDeleteI still have little scars at the base of my toes!