Hand-Me-Ups

"Sorry old girl," I said to [my bicycle] Gladys in the gray dishwater light of early morning,

"but I have to leave you at home."

-- Alan Bradley, A Red Herring Without Mustard

Lego Mini Marge Simpson with bicycle 12-28-14

"So if you have a bike that's hanging in the garage  --

one that you have fondness for but rarely ride --

keep an eye and ear out for someone who may benefit from it.

Bikes are built to be ridden."

--Rhys Newman, 

"The Joy of Hand-Me-Down Bikes," adventure-journal.com

hand-me-up

(noun)
"Something, such as an item of electronic equipment,
that is passed from a younger to an older member of a family."

One of the benefits of having kids that are about my size, like Sam, or grown much bigger than me, like Leo, is that I get their hand-me-ups.

My husband and I are repositories for clothes our boys have outgrown, toys they no longer play with, gizmos and gadgets they've replaced with newer, snazzier versions.

My first digital camera was a hand-me-up from Sam. It's where I cut my teeth and cozied up to the idea of digital photography.

I have an old, soft, thick, plaid flannel shirt of Leo's that I wear almost every day. It's keeps me warm when the house is chilly.

My favorite hand-me-up of the moment is a bicycle that Leo bequeathed to me when he got his car.

We bought the bike for him when he outgrew his old one, but before he had a driver's license. He mostly rode it back and forth to football practice when he couldn't bum a ride.

It's a good bike, barely used, and it was just sitting neglected in the garage gathering dust.

So when winter hit and I moved my skinny-wheeled, temperamental road bike to the stationary trainer in the basement, I cleaned up Leo's mountain bike and started putting it to use.

Now, it's my town bike. On mild winter days, I get outside and ride it for exercise. I buzz to the store on it. I have a wire basket that I can put on the handlebars to carry home groceries and stuff. Sometimes I toss my camera in the basket and just go exploring.

It's a substantial, hearty bike with thick nubby tires and pedals that don't require specialized cycling shoes. It's more sure-footed on slippery surfaces, and it gets me out of the basement so I can still enjoy riding in the fresh air and sunshine, even if it gets a little snowy.

Riding a bicycle is one of my all-time favorite "good things." And thanks to Leo's hand-me-up bike and a mild (so far) winter, I am still out there riding one, even though it's nearly January.

Riding My Two-Wheeler

"A good bicycle, well applied, will cure most ills this flesh is heir to."

-- Dr.  K.K. Doty

Fat tire two wheeler with wire basket 4-13-14

"A bicycle ride is a flight from sadness."

-- James E. Starrs

"Cycle tracks will abound in Utopia."

-- H.G. Wells

They say you never forget how to ride a bicycle.

I'd argue that you also never forget the very first time you did it.

I must have been 4 or 5 when my dad took the training wheels off my little red and white Schwinn, trotted along beside wobbly me until I found my balance, and then finally let me go.

And even though I can't remember my exact age when it happened, I will never forget how it felt the very first time I rode a two-wheeler.

I only made it past a couple of mailboxes down our dirt road before crash-landing in the ditch (Lesson #2, Using the coaster brakes), but I'd done it. I'd tasted smooth, unbridled freedom. It was the best feeling in the world. 

I wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

I couldn't get enough.

I still can't.

And even though I've traded my little red Schwinn for an expensive, multi-geared, high-tech, feather-light, narrow-tired road machine, and my scuffed up Stride Rite sneakers for clip-on cycling cleats, and my Toughskins for aerodynamic padded Lycra tights, the feeling I get riding a two-wheeler hasn't changed a bit. 

Smooth, unbridled freedom tastes the same no matter how old you are or how fancy your stuff is.

If you have a bike and you haven't ridden it in a long time, why don't you dust it off, clean it up, grease your chain, pump up your tires and get out there. A bike doesn't have to be high-tech or look super-cool to feel great. So what if the baby seat is still attached and your baby is in college? A baby seat is just the right size and shape for a bag of groceries or a couple of six packs. Just remember to strap them in. I know a lady who takes her two elderly Dachshunds for rides in the pull-behind Burley bike trailer she bought for her grandkids. I see them cruising all over town, and it's pretty damned adorable. 

Sometimes I like to just go cruising on my heavy old retro "Susie one-speed" with her fat tires, wide springy seat and basket on the front.  

Anyhoo ...

This is all by way of saying that yesterday, after many winter months on the indoor trainer, I finally got back on the road. (I still ride a red and white bike. I guess that hasn't changed either.) It was chilly. It was windy. It was glorious. It was the best feeling in the world.

I want to do it again. And again. And again.

And I will.

Whoever said "enough is enough" was obviously not a cyclist.

A Good Bike Mechanic

"The test of the machine is the satisfaction it gives you. There isn't any other test.

If the machine produces tranquility it's right. If it disturbs you it's wrong ..."

-- Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Bicycle chain and sprockets 4-11-14

"When man invented the bicycle he reached the peak of his attainments.

Here was a machine of precision and balance for the convenience of man.

And (unlike subsequent inventions or man's convenience) the more he used it, the fitter his body became.

Here, for once, was a product of man's brain that was entirely beneficial to those who used it,

and of no harm or irritation to others.

Progress should have stopped when man invented the bicycle."

-- Elizabeth Howard West, Hovel in the Hills

Sometimes I wish I was a professional cyclist -- not for the competition or the glory or the travel or the nifty jerseys -- but for the daily massages. Also, it'd be super nice to have a team of bike mechanics at my beck and call whenever I needed them.

I am not mechanical. Not even a little bit.

So when my road bike "Dolce" needs maintenance, I take her to my very mechanical bicycle mechanics, Ted and Rachel.

By the end of last season, Dolce's gears were missing a lot, as well as making some pretty unpleasant noises. I could only use two gears without a ton of interference and frustration. I tried riding on my indoor trainer, but the problems persisted. The only thing worse than riding on an indoor trainer, is riding a grindy-geared bike on an indoor trainer. 

I looked for fix-it tips on YouTube, but I knew I was probably in over my head. For me, fixing my own bike would be like cutting my own bangs. I'd immediately regret it and probably only end up making things way, way worse.

So Dolce's been sitting neglected and unused in the basement, like a lonely kid in the corner, all winter.

I wasn't punishing her. I was just too damn lazy to get her fixed.

With the spring and summer riding season (hopefully) approaching, I finally got off my ass and dropped Dolce off at the bike shop for a checkup. I figured they'd have to twiddle a couple of wires, make some little adjustments, and I'd be good to go. Easy, right? 

Not so much.

Ted called with the diagnosis.

It turns out my maintenance neglect over the past couple of seasons had caused some pretty significant damage. My chain was stretched beyond repair and I'd ground down the evenly-spaced nicely-rounded teeth on my front sprockets until they were snaggly, sharp, pointy little fangs.

But Ted and Rachel came to the rescue. They replaced the chain and both sprockets (and my trainer-bald rear tire) and I picked my bike up yesterday. She's good as new. 

I love hanging around the bike shop. I love the intoxicating aroma of solvents and grease and rubber. Ted and Rachel are always so thorough about explaining what they did to fix my bike, and why, and how. They take the time to teach me how things got wonky in the first place, and what I can do to prevent future problems. 

They are my bike's biggest advocates. They speak up on her behalf in order to protect her from me and my ignorance, and my tendency to carelessly ride her into a state of disrepair.

Sometimes I get the feeling Ted and Rachel love my bike more than I do.

It's a good thing they do.

Because it's that kind of love that keeps me riding. And it's riding that makes me indescribably happy.

Now if I could only get them to follow me around in a team car everywhere I ride.