“Okay, now remember to watch for cars at intersections,” instructed my husband. “Also be careful when you ride past a parked car because a door may suddenly open. And also be on the lookout for potholes.”
I leaned over my bicycle and glared at him.
“I’m not a child, you know. I’ve been riding a bike practically my whole life,” I said indignantly.
He gave me the knowing look of someone who has seen me trip over air and sprain my ankle. Twice.
Although this was not our first time doing a bike trip, the last time we did one was eight years earlier, which also, coincidentally was the last time I was actually on a bike. Of course, this doesn’t include the bikes I ride at the gym. I can’t really count those since, unlike a real bike, it’s pretty hard to fall off a stationary one. Not impossible, as I once discovered. But hard.
Since our trip was six weeks away, we decided we should do some training to prepare for the daily rides. I thought it would help us get in shape and my husband thought it would give me a chance to practice not riding into a tree. Based on my less than stellar history with stationary gym equipment, it was understandable that he would have some concerns about my ability to propel a vehicle forward for 25 miles each day. My biggest fear was that my butt would be sore. His biggest fear was that I would end up in traction.
Before we headed out for our ride, I practiced locking and unlocking my bike shoes into the pedals several times. I had all my reflective gear on, including a helmet that was so bright it could probably be seen from the International Space Station.
Keeping all of his warnings in mind, we set out and I dutifully checked every intersection and gave wide berth to parked cars. But as we were in our final stretch home, I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye. Suddenly, a bunny darted out of the bushes and ran across the street, right in front of my bike. Not wanting to tell my kids that I was responsible for a “Vehicular Bunny-cide,” I hurled myself to the right, flew onto the sidewalk and then lost control of my bike and crashed onto someone’s front lawn. Without time to unlock my bike shoes, I landed with my bike on top of me, in a tangled mess of bike, biker, and the world’s most luminescent bike helmet.
The good news was, the bunny escaped unscathed. I, however, already had a bruise the size of Texas forming on the side of my thigh. There was a tear in my shirt and grass and dirt stains all over my clothes. Extricating myself from the bike, I got up, remounted, and rode the rest of the way home.
I arrived at the driveway to find my husband waiting impatiently for me.
“What took you so long?” he asked as I got off my bike.
“I had a run-in with a bunny,” I replied.
He glanced at the bruise on my leg and the stains on my clothes.
“Looks like the bunny won.”
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