The first postwinter ride in shorts. Let the sun warm those winter-whitened legs. Welcome Spring!
|Photo credit: Wild Green|
Cycling is a global language. Just because you can't speak the local language doesn't mean you cannot communicate. Pedalng attracts other like-minded souls. A German fixed my rattling gears in Scotland and earlier this summer a Canadian invited us to stay on his lawn. C'est la vie.
Taking off a kid's training wheels. Who doesn't love the thrill of watching a child learn to pedal on their own? Our oldest boy, the cautious one, immediately began pedaling at 6 years old while our youngest, the bruiser, asked to have his training wheels removed at 4 years old. Thus began an hour and a half of wobble, cry, and fall until the mastery of his machine. Then, a smile as wide as the summer sky spread across his face, not to mention his parents' grins.
Not hitting the caterpillar. Or the turtles, squirrels, and neighborhood cats. It's tough enough to avoid little bikers, but we have to watch for the helpless too. Assist the turtles and fuzzy little critters across the path. It'll make you feel good.