A Romantic Cycle Along The Pier:
For years, I had a picture in my mind based on watching countless Hallmark movies of my husband and me taking a romantic cycle along the pier.
The Hallmark movies I poured over was enough to convince me that cycling together would be romantic and give us time to bond. The smiles we would share on a not-too-hot Summers day, occasional kisses we’d exchange when we stopped to look at the waves. The laughter and smiles about funny moments in our past and the contentment in our souls that we are still together and in love.
The picture in my mind and checklist went as follows:
His and hers bicycles.
Our children are all grown up and no longer need our constant attention.
Sunny days to ride our bikes with very little wind.
He and I are still in love and looking forward to spending time together.
We are still in relatively good physical condition to cycle.
Both of us are grateful to be alive and well.
I even had a cute straw hat that I would wear.
That’s all I needed to complete the picture in my head.
Cycling together would be better than the gracious retirement living ads bombarding us. My husband, supportive of my dreams, rushed out to buy bicycles for us.
Surprise!!!
He called me outside and did the “close your eyes” “Ta Dum” big reveal. He had a huge grin, anticipating that I would jump on him and shout out for joy. The problem with pictures in our minds is that, in real life, it never quite works like you’ve imagined!
These were one of those instances.
Confession time.
I do not know how to ride a bicycle.
The closest I came to riding a bicycle was when I was daydreaming.
We grew up in poverty, and bicycles were a luxury very few people in the neighborhood could afford. My husband was still staring, but his broad smile was wavering, and a questioning frown formed between his brows. Close up, the bicycle reminded me of when I first rode on a horse. I never knew horses were so big. I feel the same about bicycles. I never knew a bicycle up close was so big.
I can comfortably drive any car or truck, but bicycles require balance, and everyone knows I trip over my feet on the ground! I moved closer and tentatively touched what was now a big chunk of metal, not a cute bicycle and stood next to it with a nervous grin.
I don’t like falling!
I’m a ninny when I am hurt.
The mere thought of roasties on my knees was enough to break my body into a sweat! It’s why I falsified sick notes for gym classes at high school. Those classes scared me. I confessed to him, and he laughed, assuring me it was easy to learn. I bravely got on with my one foot touching the ground and asked my husband to take a photograph (at least it looked like I could ride a bicycle). I assured him I would learn while he was away.
That was four months ago.
I hastily placed the bicycle in the garage, and every Friday, I lied to myself and promised that this weekend, I would try. And every weekend I don’t learn is a personal failure.
The bicycle has even started “taunting,’ or rather, “challenging” me, and the handlebars have taken on the shape of a sneer whenever I look at it. I’ve decided to make it easy on myself. I no longer park my car in the garage, so I don’t have to look at the bicycle, and I’ve asked the family to keep the garage door shut because the dust is messing up the furniture stored in there.
That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it!
