The Joys of Biking

by Laurie Wells — June 25, 2007

We've all seen it in the movies or are lucky enough to have the memory. I can clearly recall descending the stairs on Christmas morning to see the glow of the tree lights reflected in the shiny chrome--the banana seat, flowing unkinked tassles on the handlebars, and the basket with the beautiful plastic flower as a beacon on the front. I think I even got to take it out that morning, riding around in the freezing December air. Oh, the joy of pedaling so hard your legs burned and your cheeks got all red and you couldn't really breathe. The freedom of riding to a friend's house all the way across the park or even to the swimming pool that was almost a half-mile away!

Many years later, after graduating from college and moving to a small resort community, my boyfriend and I stumbled across a bike sale that offered used rental bikes at a discounted price. I don't think I had ridden a bike since the banana-seat days, but with no actual money and a looming student loan, I happily slapped down a credit card to purchase my first mountain bike. My excitement was so apparent that the sales guy even threw in a helmet, which I wore with pride, despite the word DEMO in large white letters down the side. The first time I rode single track, I couldn't stop grinning, and I've felt that way every time I've gone out since. I'm far from a technical wiz, and once rode an entire day with one of the brakes on because I didn't know any better (I thought I was just really out of shape). And it doesn't matter how many times I spill DEMO-helmet head over handlebars, I still love riding my bike.

A month or so ago, we got a flier in the mail advertising an upcoming warehouse bike sale. The siren song was too strong, and I couldn't help but be pulled to see what they had to offer. As fate would have it, they had two used rental mountain bikes left, and my husband and I couldn't believe our luck. I knew we had found a good deal when we had to defend the bikes from poachers as we made our way to the checkout line. With the bikes loaded on the roof rack, I couldn't wait to get home and at least ride around the block, but it wasn't until a few days ago that I really got to appreciate my purchase.

Riding a single track near my house, I laughed out loud as I nearly toppled over, braking on the way downhill, and fumbled with the gears on the way back up. At the top of the trail, I passed a guy who had blown by me just after the trailhead. He seemed irritated and tired; he was panting and his brow was furrowed and he just kind of grunted a response to my greeting. I couldn't believe this guy was out there being grumpy! With miles of dirt to play in and no one to tell us to come in for dinner, we finally had true biking freedom! Maybe instead of worrying about obligatory workouts and acquiring the latest and greatest gear, everyone just needs tassles on their handlebars to remind them how fun it is to be out riding a bike.