Pedaling fast
I’ve always considered myself to have a fairly good memory. I can remember phone numbers, addresses, birthdays and other numeric information for a lot of people and places. Heck, if you read this column very often, you know I can even remember things that happened with my grandparents when I was just 4 or 5 years old. Trust me — that was a long time ago.
But recently, I came upon an issue requiring some memory skills that I just couldn’t achieve. That’s right! Hard as I tried, my mind couldn’t figure this one out. People around the world — millions who are much younger than me — have grasped the concept ... but not me.
Now, I know you’re going to laugh when I tell you this, but this old girl can’t remember how to ride a bike ... or should I say this old girl can’t remember how to stop a bike.
Back when I was a kid, the brakes on bikes were on the pedals. If you wanted to go forward, you pushed the pedals forward. If you wanted to stop, you pushed the pedals backward. I could remember those simple rules of bicycle riding. Later on, I had a few bikes with hand brakes, and I don’t remember having any issues with them either.
My bike riding years quit sometime in my late 20s. I was living in a large city with lots of traffic, and the concept of bike lanes and bike paths hadn’t yet been developed. Consequently, I parked my bike and really didn’t even think about bike riding until a couple of years ago. That’s when I decided an occasional bike ride would be good for my body, my mind, my soul. I shopped around for a long time before I settled on a blue and silver Schwinn Tornado — a bike with just seven speeds and hand brakes.
“Now remember,” the guy at the bike store told me. “The left hand controls the front brake, and the right hand controls the rear one. You need to use the brakes at the same time. If you use the front brake and not the rear brake, you’re liable to find yourself flying over the handlebars.”
I remember giving him one of those deer in the headlights expressions, while my mind raced with the endless possibilities of what could happen if I confused the front brake with the rear brake. Predominately, broken bones were high on the list of mishaps. Lack of a paycheck because of broken bones ranked a close second, with death and dying coming in at third.
As I set off on my first bike ride, I don’t mind telling you it was anything but enjoyable. Which hand controlled which brake? If I stopped once, I must have stopped 20 times to examine the brakes and determine which hand controlled which brake. No kidding. My memory just couldn’t grasp the concept. I even developed a silly little game, telling myself there was an F in the word “left,” which coincided with the F in “front.” But it didn’t matter. Every time I got on the bike it was the same old thing. An enjoyable bike ride was always replaced with the fear of flying over the handlebars, breaking bones and dying in the middle of the street with my last words being ... “Which hand controls which brake?”
It’s been two years since that blasted bike found its way to my house, and you’d think my memory would have kicked in by now ... but it’s not going to happen. That’s why there’s a new pretty pink Schwinn Cruiser sitting right beside the Schwinn Tornado. There’s nothing youthful about my Cruiser. But if my memory serves me correctly ... this new bike is considerably similar to the one I had many years ago — it has only one speed and no hand brakes. Maybe now my memory can quit pedaling so fast and finally just enjoy the ride.
