I don’t get to ride much with someone else. It’s a penalty of having a very small circle of friends who care about cycling and live within a distance that would enjoy cycling with me. I’ve been out with my future brother-in-law a few times, and he’s at the point now where he can do a pretty good job of keeping up with me (quite an accomplishment considering the first few times we went out, I dropped him a few times to the point where I made the turn at the end of a lap and stopped to wait for him).
It came as a huge surprise to me that last weekend’s relatively short ride (by my standards) was one of the more rewarding rides I’ve had since I started riding again.
My dad hasn’t been on a bike in at least 15 years, probably longer. Right after I bought the bike I’m currently riding, my uncle gave my dad a beautiful Norco Jeep Cherokee XC 3000. The bike is absolutely gorgeous, a higher end hybrid with brand name components, and something to be envious of as I ride next to it.
Last Saturday, wanting to visit my grandparents on my weekly trip to my parents, my father suggested we hop on the ole two-wheelers and head over there. It’s not a short ride, really. It’s about 3.5 miles there and another 3.5 back. Not something I expected him to be willing to do, but not wanting to pass up an opportunity to ride I agreed to take him up on it. Glad I did.
We took off from my parents’ house at a pretty good clip. Of course, before we even got on the bikes, my father broke my balls about my helmet, and how he “didn’t know we needed helmets.” Cracked me up, really. I had never worn the helmet, but I had also done very little “road riding” with traffic. Seemed like a good opportunity to christen my noggin cover.
Up the main drag of his neighborhood we went, me riding at about 15-18 mph, him bringing up the rear. He didn’t quite keep up and I stopped at one point to make sure he was back there. He was. And we kept this “me leading, him catching up” thing going most of the trip. I just finished reading Mike Magnusson’s book called “Heft on Wheels” and at one point, when he had whipped himself into terrific shape, he realized something very important. You can drop people (leave them behind) catch them, and drop them again and keep repeating the cycle. You can even do it repeatedly and embarrassingly. But instead of proving how much better you are, all you’re proving is what an asshole you are. I took that advice to heart. I may have dropped my dad a few times, but I always either waited for him to catch up or dropped back a bit and encouraged him.
When we made it to my grandmother’s house, he definitely looked tired, but not exhausted and I asked him one question:
“Don’t you feel great? Come on, admit it. You feel like a million bucks!”
He nodded. Grudgingly, but he nodded.
I knew I had him.
When it came time to leave, and we went out on the road, he suggested a longer more challenging route home. It was a smart move because we hit the service road to the Bayonne Bridge and it was smooth sailing. A downhill flat that brought our cruising speed up to about 22 mph and both of us off the pedals. The wind felt great and it just worked out very nicely. My dad seemed rejuvenated also, which was good.
We continued up another wide yet relatively trafficless street and my dad needed a break so we stopped, sipped some agua, and lengthened the route again. I was surprised at the suggestion, but dad wanted to keep going. Not one to argue, I went right along with it. Until we got to the first overpass of the Westshore Expressway when I realized the worst thing you can realize when you’re in the saddle and a full two miles from home.
I had a flat.
And I was pissed.
So instead of keeping up, we detoured and worked our way back home.
Total trip? 8.8 miles. Probably woulda been a shade over 10 if we went the full route. Hills, flats, light traffic… It was everything a cyclist could want. And the amazing part?
Dad wants to do it again tomorrow.
Ain’t gonna happen, though, seeing as Ivan is looking to take a huge shit on the New York Metro area tomorrow, but hey, he’s motivated. He’s diabetic, and his blood sugar has been great all week, and he’s been doing short rides here and there during the week.
I’m really glad he’s rediscovered his love of being in the saddle. Growing up, I credit him with much of my love of cycling. I’m just glad that a few years later, I’m able to return the favor.