July Issue 105
All Rights Reserved
In the spirit of getting more active, plus it’s summer and all, I
recently decided it was time to evict the spiders that had taken up residence
on my bike and put it to use.
Anyone who knows me is puzzled when I mention I’m going to start riding
my bike more often, assuming I’m referring to the motorized kind, my normal
mode of transport about 9 months of the year (in a cooperative weather year,
that is). The general consensus is short of replacing the front tire with some
kind of snowmobile ski thing, for winter riding, it may not be possible to ride
my bike more often. When I clarify by “bike” I mean the pedal variety the
responses ranged from disbelief to outright laughter. I may need better
friends.
But in the spirit of “helping” my ONE good friend, who probably puts 20
or 30 kms a day on her bike, decided to nag me to death… uh… I mean offer to go
riding with me any time. As in the weekend, I brought it up, “any time”. I told
her I wasn’t ready, needing to give the spider’s proper notice, but maybe the
following weekend would work.
The bike hadn’t seen pavement beyond the garage for... a while… so some
maintenance was in order. And by maintenance I mean put some air in the tires,
which is the sum total of my pedal bike maintenance knowledge (but ask me if I
can change the oil, adjust my chain or remove a tire on my real bike. Go ahead,
ask me! Why yes, since you ask, I can do all those things!!).
The tires filled to the appropriate roundness, I was pawing through some
garage boxes looking for something resembling a bike helmet and the bag thing
that hooks on to the back (I’m told by my eye-rolling friend that the correct
term is “pannier”. Whatever. Knowing its name didn’t actually help me find it)
when the back tire decided it had had enough and blew up. Loudly. As in “pry me
off the garage ceiling” or “go change my pants now” loudly. Apparently old
rubber is not as pliable as one would hope or someone was trying to send me a
message that bike riding wasn’t a good idea. At that point, hot, sweaty and
covered in dust from box pawing while keeping an eye out for grouchy spiders,
the heart-attack inducing explosion was enough to convince me of the latter.
Surprisingly, in the world of bikers (pedalists?) an exploding tube is
no big deal and apparently not only do they all own spares, they carry said
spares with them. And know how to use them. A minor set-back at the least, a
head start on the cardio at the worst, per my “friend”.
Bike repaired in distressingly short order, as well as guaranteed spider
free, we set out for a nice little jaunt. I reminded my friend that it had been
a while so for the first ride brevity might be in order, which she assured me
she’d kept in mind when figuring out where we’d ride.
It’s at this point I must state that my ex-friend is a liar.
Unequivocally.
I can also say, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the loop around the
Glenmore Reservoir is about 20 km long, is not even vaguely flat and riding it
when not in condition (aka haven’t been on a bike for… a while…) will result in
serious posterior pain (I’m told seasoned riders develop “callouses”. On the
derriere. Sounds pleasant.). I should also point out that one should be deeply
suspicious of city-dwelling friends, who ride their bike to work most days, who
suggest leaving the nice, flat, bald-headed prairie to go into the BIG city for
a ride. Clearly these people do not have your best interests at heart.
I wonder if the spiders still want a home?
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