No matter. I was ready.
We raced off up the path and across Trotter Road. Back into the path system, we were making wind. But all of a sudden, the discomfort grew into realization.
The last person who rode my bike was 6 feet tall.
And you ladies know what that means.
That was one uncomfortable seat.
But alas, we were getting far from home – almost half way on our planned excursion. So we kept going. And then we took a break at the Bagel Bin.
Even the extra-super-dooper-large Diet Pepsi didn’t make me forget my pain.
We rode home – me humming in my head to distract myself. Yikes. It got me back to thinking about when I rode a bike exclusively. Back in college, I didn’t drive a car, but a bike instead. I rode all around Richmond – miles and miles a day.
I loved my bike.
Oh, I didn’t drive a car because I didn’t have a license.
Why, you ask? Well. I didn’t have my license because I gave it back to the DMV after the accident. The second accident, that is. (Though I still say the first one wasn’t my fault. Right, Laurie?)
But the second accident was bad. Really bad. I was still 16 years old. And, I was on my parents’ insurance. Well, that my friend, was quickly becoming a non-reality.
So I gave it back. The liccense. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll bet there is a judge still laughing about since he said, “Wow, that’s worse than I could have done to you.”
And then my mind came back to the ride at hand as we prepared to cross back over Trotter. Suddenly we were home and I was off that bike so fast….
So I still want to ride. But I’m taking out my tool-kit tomorrow and I’m going to lower that seat!