High on wheels

One day, husband said to me, “Let’s buy bicycles.”
I replied, “Okay.”

Not sure what possessed me to say yes, really, since the last time I rode a bike was when I was a wee kiddo and it was not a pleasant experience – I had flown across a drain and ploughed into a tree.

Yes, apparently I had not mastered the use of the brakes then.

During our hunt for bikes, I tried riding the bike that I would eventually buy. And the owner of the shop was extremely, shall we say, concerned about the way I was wobbling about the carpark. I still hadn’t figure out how to brake and turning was a bit of a problem. I had to stop, turn the handlebars and then slowly inch my way around by pushing off with my toes. Not entirely promising.

Our first ride was a bit rocky. We decided to hit to the roads one night and head to the bistro at the nearby reservoir. Along the way was a multitude of construction and we had to dismount a gazilion times.

Thank goodness for alcohol then. After a pint and some greasy sausages, I felt sufficiently brave enough to tackle the roads.

Since then, I have been pretty hooked on riding! I love the feeling of the wind in my hair, the buzz in my ears as we speed downhill, the burn in my quads as we climb up slope. Riding is very addictive and I had never expected myself to enjoy it as much as I do now.

We’ve chalked up quite a few rides as a family and the little man has his own seat and helmet. And on some nights, Mr Thick and I go on cycling dates and head out for ice-cream and waffles.

Hey, at least we work hard for our food.

Now, I can’t wait for A to be older so that he can ride along with us.