Monday, May 9, 2011

Day 79

Happy Mother's Day indeed.

Well, it had to happen . . . and unfortunately it did as it always does.  Sunday rolled around and we prepared to bid mom a farewell to yet another week of travel.  This promises to be the last until August, however, I am not holding my breath for fear of permanent brain damage and incapacitation.  Given Mom's Monday departure, we gave it our all the share an enjoyable day together.  We gathered the troops and loaded all of the bikes onto the Renault and were off to the park for a pleasant afternoon ride.  I have to admit that I am relatively surprised that there weren't any incidents that need reporting.  No dramatic crashes and very little strife from the youngsters.

I would imagine the youngest of our crew had the best time.  He was a lucky passenger on the "Dad Express".  The preferred way to travel by bicycle with your youngster is the childseat attachment that allows them a perch ride behind the cycling parent.  Since I am a bit more comfortable on two wheels, my wife pawned this duty off on me.  There was a slight concern with this on my end however as there are some features of my bicycle that are somewhat less conventional.  It is a fixed gear bicycle.  A "fixie" for those in the community is a single speed bicycle without breaks.  Stopping is done in a very delicate manner using only the strength of one's legs.  This is not a coaster break like we all had on the Schwinn of our youths, but rather a direct drive mechanism.  If you pedal forward the bike moves forward.  Conceivably, the opposite is also true.  If you had the balance and the desire, you could pedal backwards and the bike would move backwards.  No free wheel at all.  Always pedaling, never coasting.  As a result, the bicycle is tremendously fast on flat ground.  It is afterall, a velodrome bike.

I am one of only a few crazies I have seen piloting these through the streets of town, but the trend is picking up and becoming more and more popular.  Now, you add the weight of a shifting child to the back of the bicycle, you make a relatively precocious machine into a deathtrap.  Everything went swimmingly though and I was proud of my cycling prowess and enjoyed the knowing looks from those who could appreciate the type of bicycle I had chosen.  Regardless of the type of bicycle, the rear seated child has some drawbacks.  With my hindquarters within reach, it wasn't long before my youngest realized he could prod me to go faster by slapping my ass cheeks.  He took great delight in this and anytime progress slowed, I got a swift slap on my ass.  Nothing like spending the afternoon as a horse on the front of a stagecoach.  The continued thirst for speed meant that I didn't get to plod along and socialize with my wife as I had intended.

The ready access to my sensitive hind end soon took a turn for the worse.  Soon the slapping subsided and the younglad grabed a firm hold of the wasteband of my pants and well . . . you guessed it . . . the world got a show.  Being depanted while atop a deathtrap to the cackling laughter of a three year old is not my idea of quality family time.  That being said, I appreciated the comedy in the situation and now had to pilot said deathtrap with one hand.  Thank God for the countless hours I have spent riding a bicycle in my life because if it hadn't been for this skillset, the youngest and I would have certainly met our maker this day.  We didn't, but unfortunately, the fact that one's ass can make an appearance has probably cemented the deal in Mom's mind that he will always ride on my bicycle rather than hers.

We finally called it an afternoon and returned home to tend to a little gardening.  Day by day, the garden is becoming less feral.  I can't say the same for the pool however.  Within a day and a half, she has gone from being blue as the carribean to as green as a bull frog infested Kansas pond.  I have nuked it with every chemical known to man and it doesn't seem to be giving in.  I have one or two tricks up my sleeve yet and I pray that I don't have to drain the damned thing, but if it weren't for bad luck, I would have no luck at all, so look for a future installment focusing on the draining of said pool.  That about wraps up the weekend and soon we will be back to the grind and I will be back to my solo duty as Mr. Mom.  Take care.

3 comments:

Jim said...

Did you hear about the Belgian who died in the Giro? Get some helmets!

R said...

But I'm not Belgian.

Jim said...

Listen here Norbert. I'm about to enter you in the Tour de Dumbass.