"I wish this was a nightmare and I would wake up!"

"I wish this was a nightmare and I would wake up!" ~ Max Overshiner, age 9.

OK, so Max had been asking me if he could ride his scooter to school for a few weeks. I kept saying no and putting it off; after all it's 3.3 miles to school. He was especially insistent on Tuesday morning. Once again, I said "No Max, it'll take too long. It's too far for you to scooter to school. We're running late. We don't have time for that right now."

Then he struck with, "What about after school? We'll have time then. You can carry the scooter in the bike cart and I can ride it home after school."

"True, but how we will we get your bike home? It's too big for the bike cart." I parried, looking at my watch and seeing that we were getting later and later...the cycling mamas and papas of the bike brigade would be waiting.

"I can lock up my bike at school and ride Annarose's ten-speed tomorrow. Then you can carry the ten-speed home in the bike cart; it fits, you carried it home from Klunk yesterday. I can ride my bike back home tomorrow after school." He struck the death blow - touche'. Clearly this kid has inherited my completely convoluted planning capabilities. Maybe we should have named him Rube. It was getting really late by this time. I caved.

"Fine." I replied, defeated. "Put the damn scooter in the bike cart, we have to go NOW." Just then, Annarose came up and put her scooter in the bike cart, as well. Apparently, I would be hauling AR's bike home in the bike cart this afternoon, as the cart would be full of ten-speed tomorrow. Being human, and thus fallible, I can only haul one bike at a time and the tires have to be 24" or smaller.

Scooters loaded in the bike cart along with all my tools and their book bags, we headed off the meet up with the rest of the bike brigade. We met Erika and Violet at Stewart and West Blvd, then over to Maupin and Greenwood to meet up with Mark, Sid, Simon, Jody, and Jasper. As we rode, Erika asked about the scooters. I explained. "Wow," she commented "You are reallly accommodating."

I felt like an overindulgent fool who has no control over her children, but I had a plan. When we met up with Shannon, Pete and Lily at Crestmere and West Parkway, the inquiries about the scooters started again. Still feeling a bit foolish, I explained lamely "I like to let my kids figure things out for themselves. Collect their own data." I added somewhat cryptically.

I dropped the kids at school and headed to the job site, a bathroom remodel on West Worley, in which just about everything that can go wrong has. The toilet hasn't exploded, so that's a good thing. Around 3, I headed over to school to pick up the kids for their scooter ride home and my ultimate vindication. I arrived at school and Max started by asking if Dad could come with the truck to pick up this desk that the school was throwing out. He thought it was really cool and wanted it for his room. We had been trying to get the desk picked up for a while, so I called Tim. He was on the way to the hardware store. Yes, he could stop by to get the desk. We waited around to help him load it in the truck. I took the opportunity to put the bikes in the truck, as well. Not that I wasn't looking forward to hauling the bikes in the bike cart for the next two days, but when opportunity knocks...

The kids had been riding their scooters joyously around the playground while all this was going on. After Tim left, I had my first small taste of sweet revenge. Annarose rode up and expectantly asked where her bike was. "I loaded it up in the truck and sent it home with Daddy. I thought you wanted to ride your scooter." I told her sweetly, relishing the concerned look on her face.

"Oh" she replied crestfallen "Yeah, I did want to ride my scooter home."

I wanted to give their scooter efforts a fair chance, so there could be no excuses later. I took them to Candy Factory for a treat and a rest before the long ride home. Rested and hopped up on sugar, we headed down Cherry St. to Flat Branch Park and the tunnels. So far so good. It was slow going, but I had figured it would take a long time. They were having a great time riding through the tunnels and along the sidewalk on Stewart. They held their own along West Parkway and were showing no signs of slowing. I was watching their kicking legs waiting for the inevitable signs of fatigue. Max worried me a bit, because he has perfected this technique of switching legs thus allowing one leg then the other some rest and recovery time. As we headed up Maupin he was switching legs and bunny hopping, causing me to worry that my evil plan might fail.

The going was very slow, 3-5 mph, little faster than a walk. It is hard to ride that slow for three miles and more, especially with a loaded bike cart while keeping an eye out for your scootering kids, and waiting for your ultimate revenge. You should try it some time. I did the whole thing in my lowest granny gear. Somewhere near Maupin and Edgewood, Posey started showing some signs of fatigue. She is an extremely tough kid, who will never admit defeat.

"Are you having a good time Posey?" I asked sweetly.

"Yeah" she panted.

"Good, I'm glad." I replied with an evil grin. 'She'll crack soon' I joyfully thought to myself. I was worried about Max though. He was a block ahead, as usual, just kicking along and bunny hopping. This was worrying.

Then at the corner of Maupin and Lindell, it happened!

Max cried out "I wish this was a nightmare and I would wake up!" I was confused at first. Did my ears deceive me? Was I having an auditory hallucination?

"What?" I asked.

He yelled it again while scootering through a water-filled low spot on the corner. "I wish this was a nightmare and I would wake up!"

"What do you mean Max?" I asked with relish. This was too good to be true. Surely he was talking about something else, he can't mean the wonderful scooter ride.

Half a block later, Posey cracked, "Can we take a little rest, Mom?"

"Well," I replied "If it's OK with Max, it's OK with me."

"Max, Annarose wants to take a break, is that OK with you?" I asked. Then for an added touch, I said "If you want to keep going, I am sure Posey will be all right."

They both collapsed panting on someone's front lawn. The heavens opened up and the angels started singing, "Halleluia! Halleluia! Halleluia! Hal-le-luia!" OK, that didn't really happen, but I did experience a profound sense of satification in knowing that I am truly not the pandering fool that I had felt I was earlier in the day. I was glad to know that the scooter arguement was over once and for all. Having experienced the three mile scooter ride from school, the kids would not ask to ride them to school again. Just to make sure, I said with
an innocent smile "OK guys, it's time to get up and scooter the rest of the way home." ...only half a mile to go.

We made it home 40 minutes after leaving Candy Factory - it would have taken around 15 minutes on the bike. The kids went immediately into Max's room and started propping pillows up on the headboard. They climbed into bed with their books and their gameboys saying "We need a rest!"

"Don't you want to go play outside?" I asked surprised, I have never seen my kids this spent.

"We will in a while, but we need a rest right now!"

In less than thirty minutes they were out on Garden Ct. with their buddy, Keenan, having scooter races and making up new tricks. They still play on their scooters most everyday, but they haven't asked to ride them to school since.

I have a bike mechanic.

“I have a bike mechanic.”

A few weeks ago, I experienced a devastating bicycle tragedy. Steve, Michelle, Tim and I were driving to St. Louis for a weekend of bicycle fun. The Second Annual World Naked Bike Ride and New Belgium’s Urban Assault Ride were taking place the same weekend on Saturdy night and Sunday morning, respectively. This was a weekend not to be missed,we ditched our kids and set out on our merry way.

The guys loaded the van and the bikes, while Michelle and I taught bike class. After class, Steve and Tim picked us up and we hit the highway. Driving eastbound on I-70 just west of the Route Z exit, Steve looked out the back window and exclaimed something I can’t remember, Tim looked back in shock. I heard something about Black Beauty, my bike, flying off the rack onto the highway and getting run over by a truck. Noone wrecked, and noone was hurt, thank goodness for small miracles. We pulled over and the guys retrieved the battered and broken remnants of Black Beauty from the highway. I sat in the van numb, stunned, and silent.

We headed back to Columbia with Black Beauty’s battered frame draped over the back seat. Our first stop was Klunk, where Karl and Josh met us with looks of disbelief and sorrow. Over the past few years, Karl had built her up from a Plain Jane 2001 Cannondale Bad Boy, into the bad-ass commuting, touring, load-hauling work machine ‘Black Beauty’. Since October 2006, Karl and Josh had replaced every single component and added the xtracycle.

After dropping Black Beauty’s torn and tattered remains at Klunk, we stopped by our house to pick up my single speed and hit the highway, again. We made it to St. Louis and had a great weekend of bicycle fun and mayhem.

The following days were a blur of worry and confusion. We called the insurance company, since Black Beauty had been run over by a truck, she was covered under our homeowner’s policy – lucky me. Talking to insurance agents and claim’s adjustors, I had to answer many questions and explain Black Beauty’s importance as my primary mode of transportation. “We sold our car a year ago. My bike IS my ‘car’.”

During one of these conversations, while trying to justify all the money I had invested in Black Beauty, I found myself answering a question with the following answer, “Yes. I have a bike mechanic.” As I said it, I realized how odd a statement this was. “Yes. I have a bike mechanic.” The statement came out like most folks might say “Yes. I have a doctor/dentist/podiatrist.” I realized, I must have a doctor, but I can’t remember his name. I have a dentist, but I haven’t seen him in ages. Being a healthy active adult with a bike mechanic, I haven’t needed to see a doctor in a really really long time. I don’t know any of my doctor’s phone numbers or office addresses. Try as I might, I can’t even remember my primary care physician’s name.

BUT, I have a bike mechanic. I see him almost every week. I know his phone number and address. I frequent his shop to get some air, see what’s new, pick up some new bike stuff, have my brake pads changed, drop off flyers, have a tire fixed or a wheel trued, or, most recently, have my new dream bike built. You name it, my bike mechanic is always there for my family and me. The more I think about it, if more folks had a bike mechanic, fewer folks would need doctors. Maybe more people should forget their doctors’ names and get themselves a bike mechanic, like me.


So “Yes. I have a bike mechanic.” Actually, I have two, Karl and Josh. Thanks guys, you keep us going.