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Sparkle (1)
Okay, here's what happened: I was riding along and this post jumped out at me and my bicycle, and I went flying over it. However, my husband tells it differently - we'll get to that in a moment.
For our anniversary this year, instead of taking a trip, I suggested to my husband that we get ourselves bicycles. Our grandson had just turned four and got one and I thought how cool it would be if we could all take family rides together: Matty and his parents with grandpa and grandma (that would be me). So we got a Schwinn hybrid for my husband and a Nirve beach cruiser for me.
Oh, I love my Nirve! I chose the Lahaina 3-speed in turquoise. Also got a black wire basket and a matching bag/liner for the basket. I named it "Tropical Pearl." Hey! If Capn' Jack Sparrow can name his ship the "Black Pearl" I can name my bicycle. We began riding together every morning.
Now I haven't ridden a bike in a long time and I live with what we lovingly call "anomalies;" residual balance and spacial relationship issues from a mild stroke ten years ago. For the first week and a half of riding we stuck to the neighborhood streets and I was doing just fine. In fact, it reminded me greatly of when I was a girl...my friends and I lived on our bikes. We'd meet up on Saturdays after breakfast, usually at my house, throw some snacks in the basket of one of the girls' bikes and be gone the rest of the day. I loved the freedom of those bygone days.
Well yesterday my husband and I decided to explore a bit as part of our ride and went along a bike and walking trail. Now here's where my anomalies jumped up to be counted: at the end of the trail, before the sidewalk begins, are two posts to keep cars (I guess) from driving onto the trail. The two posts are about knee high and spaced wide enough apart to ride a bike through easily - for ordinary people.
My husband says it looked as though I slowed down to a minus one mile per hour to avoid one post and hit the other and, holding onto my pretty new bike, went flying to land in the gravel and dirt. Personally I really don't remember anything about it until l discovered myself laying there. The Tropical Pearl got some road rash: a corner of the basket got scraped as did one side of the brake lever on the left handlebar; the back left corner of the beautiful leather saddle got scraped and the pedal got scratched. My poor steed!
Me? I woke up this morning with the thought that grandmas aren't supposed to crash their bikes because grandmas aren't as resiliant as the young girls they once were. X-rays taken yesterday proved thankfully that nothing was broken and I just have to stay off my bike until I can ride without it hurting. Okay I'll stay off at least until I can raise my left arm high enough to grab the handlebar! I apparently landed on my left shoulder. But hey, I wore my helmet! And I had bike gloves so my hands were protected. I saw these gloves at the bike shop. I think racers use them. I got them because their color and fabric decoration matched the Tropical Pearl...and wouldn't you know, they came in handy!
The moral of this story is that this anomalous grandma will stay off trails, stay on the nice wide street and continue to have fun riding. After all, Matty just learned how to ride his bike and I have to keep up.
Linda C Smith, Artist and Writer
