Enjoying the Ride

As far back as I remember, Mom rode me around town on the back of her green 3-speed Huffy. The creaking of the cheap tubing as the frame flexed with each pedal stroke, the warm breeze and the chain rubbing against the chain guard with each turn of the cranks was enough rhythm to turn the rocking of my head into the nods that make one's eyes too heavy to stay awake. I sat on a plaid, vinyl jumper seat over the rear wheel. Helmet-less, care-free and fast asleep. The child seat had the integrity of a lawn chair. Barely big enough for a 3-year old to sit in much less protect. No Lycra, no helmets, no bike lanes, no problem. That bike, as crappy as it was, served us well. Whether to the library or grocery store and back, or as a spare paper-route bike 10-years later when my Sting Ray had a flat at 4.30 in the morning. I learned the first and most important aspect of cycling on that bike; to simply enjoy the ride.


Over the long weekend, G and I rode plenty of laps around the block, around the park and around the neighborhood. More times than not, we returned from our ride with him zonked out -dead to the world- asleep.

Steve Larsen died

Steve, (far left, fiddling with his front wheel) taught me at 13 the unfairness of the world; that someone stronger, faster and better looking can also be too nice to hate. Whether beating up on a pre-pubescent junior field just after this photo was taken, or giving the time to meet and greet juniors I hauled to races 15-years later, Steve was one of the good guys.

The milk crate is getting a little small...