My water bottle cracked today.
While stopped at a traffic light, I took a sip, and there was a shower
of cold water over me. Felt pretty good, but I knew there was
something wrong. When I got home, sure enough there was a crack in
the bottle.
Oh, I have other water bottles. I'll use one of them on my commute
tomorrow. But this was the end of my cycling rebirth.
Thirty years ago, I got my first 10-speed bike with derailleurs. I
loved the way it would climb the steep hills around home without
worrying that the Sturmey-Archer hub on my previous 3-speed would
slip. I enjoyed the freedom to wander across the north end of the
city, and even occasionally across the river to the south.
Then I "grew up." In 25 years, I got on the bike exactly once.
Then my girls got bikes, and rode them around a little bit. Their
mother was worried -- what if they get run over? harassed?
kidnapped? After a while, I figured I'd get a new bike, with good
tires and rims that weren't steel, and ride with them. Picked out a
rigid mountain bike, and before I left the store, I bought this
Specialized water bottle with the screw-on lid, another brand for my
daughter, and a couple of water bottle holders; the mechanic put mine
on before I left the store.
Since then, I rode with both girls, and even got my wife out for
family rides occasionally. After a year, and an attack by a killer
stick on the derailleur of the mountain bike, (which I replaced), I
decided I liked riding on the roads more, and bought myself a road
bike. The family rides around the neighborhood found bigger
neighborhoods to go around, then the girls and I found we could make
it 5 miles to a bookstore with coffee shop or an ice cream store.
Older daughter graduated and went off to college. I started
commuting on a bike, first sporadically, and then more regularly.
In the last few years, I improved to the point that I could climb the
mountain behind us without stopping. There's a route from here out to
the county, with hardly any stop signs or traffic. The ice cream
store was supplanted by a gelato store a few miles further; then the
younger daughter left for college, leaving my wife and me with an
empty nest. I've bought a bunch more bottles, mostly the Specialized
or similar.
In short, I've rediscovered the joys and freedom of cycling from my
own teen and college years. The wind in my face, the thrill of
finding out where that road goes, rides when it was just too hot,
afternoon thundershowers on the commute home, rides when the water in
the bottle froze and my toes and nose were numb. I think my girls
have learned some of this from me, although the younger told me this
summer, "I DON'T want to ride home in another cloudburst!" The water
bottle that broke today has been on its fair share of rides with us
over the last seven years.
I think I'll get another bottle.
Pat
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