Life goes on. I miss my dad terribly; there is so much to miss about him and I find reminders of him all around our house. If only he wasn’t such a great guy and a gentle, good-natured teddy bear, this grieving wouldn’t be so hard. But hard it is, and life goes on. He’d be happy we miss him, but he’d want us to get back on the saddle of life, and continue to ride.
So, today was the first day back on the bikes… not just a ride to clear our heads, but a ride with a purpose. This week we registered for the City of Angels Fun Ride on May 4, a benefit ride to support Childrens Hospital Los Angeles Bloodmobile Fund. It starts and ends at the Los Angeles Police Academy and has rolling LAPD traffic support as for the Memorial Ride for Randy we did in February. If you’ve never been escorted through the city by rolling motor officers, it is an event to savor. Anyway, with only a week to prepare, we now had a goal to aim for, a reason to ride.
We headed out this morning anticipating a “short” ride of just 1 hour, just an easy spin to get our legs moving. Jim rode his mid-70s Schwinn Sports Tourer road bike and I rode my hybrid. I could feel a small loss of fitness in my legs but did well nevertheless, in spite of the warm temperatures and my severe lapse in judgment in choosing to wear jeans for a change (don’t ask).
It was a nice ride and we stopped to refill our water bottles at our favorite ice cream shop in Claremont, Bert & Rocky’s. While we were there, the local Fire Department was having a “fill the boot” drive to raise money for Muscular Dystrophy so I put a few dollars in a boot. Who in their right mind can resist a fireman in uniform?! Hmmm… I bet they are wise to that.
From there we headed home, a route we like to take along Bonita Avenue — a wide, tree-lined street of quaint older homes through the older parts of Claremont and La Verne. We turned up D Street. About halfway up the street, we both heard the funny noise.
Not funny ha-ha… funny “what was THAT??!!”. The chain on Jim’s bike had broken and was now lying on the ground. The pin was nowhere to be found. The chain was 34 years old and they don’t last forever, so this was it’s time. Not to worry — we were close enough to home, so I rode alone the rest of the way. At home, I grabbed a bag for the greasy chain, a small bottle of soapy water that my dad had made and given us a few years ago for occasions such as this (thanks Dad), paper towels, the bike rack, and the camera.
Camera? Might as well make it a ride report!
We loaded the bike in the back of the truck and took it straight to the bike shop for a new chain.
In all, I rode 19.5 miles in 1 hour, 40 minutes.
All things considered, it was a good ride, and it’s great to be back in the saddle again.
