|Number two son's new ride.|
Half a world away, I wished I was there for his first adult-sized ride. Or maybe not. He's the type that would put the bike through a battery of tests, jumping curbs, cruising backyards, whizzing down the street that is more hill than quiet road, which flattens into a runway in front of our house.
We know this guy pretty well. Since that time he's gone back to bike riding (at least on family outings) and is a regular runner, entering races. He also doesn't skimp on anything he buys, so after close inspection, my husband decided that accident or not, this bike was just fine. So, as providence would have it, my son now owns a decent bike.
|I rather like these platform pedals with grippy rubber surface. |
I wonder if I could locate a pair for my girly bike, ones that
would accommodate toeclips.
I went on to transfer his bell and replace his license plate with an older green version modeled after the Vermont State car plate.
And so it was that last weekend my son was game for a ride to the apple orchard. Buffeting headwinds, he made it most of the way, determined to keep up, but no quite getting the knack of drafting. To be fair he also was riding on knobby tires. After a particularly chilling half-mile descent, he started slowing down. "How far do you think I went," he asked, before deciding whether to hitch a ride with my husband, who was driving the same route and had caught up with us. When I told him it was probably 10 miles, he seemed satisfied and got in the car.