Walker on Wheels
It's a beautiful day for riding here in Seattle, and I'm hoping after my doctor's appointment, Best Beloved will give me a lift to my fifth spin around Green Lake, my nineteenth time riding a bike. Yes, I can still keep track on my fingers and toes-- didn't learn to ride until the age of twelve and two weeks after that a car took me off it. There's twenty-five years between then and now and a lot of freedom to make up for.
I say "freedom" rather than just "riding" because, due to a combination of health history, financial factors, and having the depth perception of a potato, my sole source of independence in life has been my own two feet. Any regular destination within five miles, I walk to. So while I'm reading right and left about the wonder and intimacy experienced by people switching from driving to cycling, I'm have to adjust to the incredible speed of the world whipping by at up to twenty miles an hour. [I AM A VEHICLE! WHEEE!]
I'm riding a bike put together for me by the Hub Community Co-op in Bellingham; 7 gears and front and rear brakes on a step-through mountain bike frame, so I'll be able to go churning up the Seattle hills in the Seattle rain. For now, however, I'm under strict orders from the guy at the Hub who actually watched me ride to spend two weeks staying flat and not touching the gears. He also told me that if I don't take my time learning to use my gears gradually and well, that I could "bend my derailleur", a phrase that filled me with terror even before I had him show me what the derailleur was.
So here's my big goal: two weeks riding flat, then find a mentor to ride with for my first hills and gears, build up the thigh power and shifting skills at the same time, and by January 1st I want to be able to take that hill on 35th Ave NE up to the synagogue every morning.
Suggestions welcome.
Thank you for being here.