biking

I don't know that we biked at all last year. This is odd because biking is one of our Things. When we were dating + or first couple years of marriage we lived in a rather bike-positive town by US standards, in a state that features an annual bike touring event where you start with your back tire dipped in one river-what-marks-the-border and bike until you cross the whole state to dip your front tire in the other river-what-marks-the-border. This suited us just fine because we love to bike and did so everywhere--I'd go so far as do it in the winter sometimes! We went on a lot of biking dates. I did a lot of bike errands if I could fit all I needed in a backpack. I know Em has plenty of stories from her childhood revolving around them. I have multiple Cornerstones in mine.

When I was four, we moved. I remember two things about that: they had to lower a mattress out a window to get it out of the old house, and I just got a BigWheel for my birthday--and the new house was on a perfectly circular cul-de-sac Ripe For Riding. I rode that thing until the eponymous big wheel was two plastic rims with nothing between 'em to serve as a tire. Later, when I finally finally was big enough for our our hand-it-down-it's-the-one-everyone-learns-on bike I was determined enough (and the weather balmy enough that year--not a single snow) to master riding it through the winter, begging my dad to yank the training wheels 'cuz they didn't ever touch the ground by Spring. Eventually I outgrew that bike--and maybe another even--and we turned to the greatest boon a poor family in a college town had access to: the annual please-help-us-get-rid-of-the-unclaimed-bikes-scatteretd-across-our-campus auction. We looked at several bikes that day. All were, truth be told, too big for me. But I was growing (and uh. Didn't stop. Someone send help the ceiling's too close) so in the eternal confidence of kidhood it was Fine, I could Handle It, Don't Worry.

I recall at least one bike we had earmarked leapt out of our price range in bidding quickly. I don't recall what our price range was, but I do remember my dad walking through the basics of an auction--the bidding, the budget, and how you have to let it go if a bidding war took you past it.^[1] One of the bikes I loved was a green mountain bike. Knobbly tires. Front and rear suspension. Fat Fat Fat tubes. It prolly weighed a million pounds, and in my eyes it was an unstoppable force on par with my own nature, a noble and Worthy steed. It also, incredibly, beautifully, divinely had 0 bidders interested. The auctioneer couldn't get a starting bid. He asked for a few, dropping down his request. Finally I built up the courage to pipe out "I'll do $5". No one wanted it, but I don't think anyone could have attempted to take it at that point, either. It was a bunch of bike nuts, bike shops, and dads; who among them could outbid a kid with an earnest five bucks?

That bike took me all the way through part of college, where it was stolen. I can't say it was a good bike but I can say it was a great bike, a symbol of liberation and power for a kid who had very little of either. It was my one solace when my dad lost his job and we had to move across state lines in a hellish, protracted process that even more firmly pressed us into poverty. It was My Great Escape for the weeks, months, year and more we were all^[2] crammed into a 2 bedroom duplex. I could slip outside, untangle my bike from its siblings, and hammer my way up and down some hills; an expression of power and flight that expressed out--through sweat and exertion--my helpless rage at our situation like oil from an olive, wine from a grape.

Bikes are important to me. I know bikes. I don't remember ever consciously learning how they worked or how to fix one, just that I always have been able to. From reseating a chain to altering the tension of a cable it has always just been a thing I can do. They are my friends and readily listen to my hands. My current bike is an old late 80s steel frame Schwinn road bike trying to pass itself off as its olympic siblings despite its tire width, frame weight, and mass-production geometry. A few years ago I pulled the entire thing apart, not a piece attached to a neighbor, stripped and painted the frame (yellow and black, it's Pretty even with the scrapes I've given it since), and reassembled the whole thing. Gave it a taller and longer stem. Redid all the wires (yellow casings of course), re-wrapped the drop bars (also in yellow) complete with a change in direction around the brake lever casings so the wrap direction matches the twist you give the bars depending on where you grip. It's not a good bike either but it is, like my old green behemoth, a great bike even in spite of--and maybe because of--the fact it is inches too short in all directions even with the extended stem.

I don't really know why we didn't bike at all last year. (Probably a timing thing with Snapdragon's infant stages.) This week the heat finally broke and we were in our saddles again, though. I'm pulling Gooseberry in a trailer that's soon to be too small for her; Em's got Snap in a rear fender seat. The barrier that is a quarter mile of highway between us and town has never felt slimmer. Our veins are on fire, every pore is singing "bikebikebikebikebikebikebikebikebike". We're camping in a few weekends and we're wondering whether we should work to pull off the oft dreamed ideal of being part of The Biking Campers. We keep going, "hey we can bike to X in town" and talking about what is sore today. As much as I love my bike I'm budgeting for a new one--a new new one--that will finally, finally be a bike purchased for my body not for price and availability^[3]. We're talking about what we'll wanna do for family rides next year since Goose's current trajectory means she'll not be in a solo saddle for a while yet (We'll work on it, but even then speed comes later) but will be too big for the trailer; this probably means I get to be the dad with the bolt-on tandem upgrade, which is Excellent. We haven't biked in over a year and we're fire-in-our-veins road-rash-ready drive-train-goes-tictictic rubber-meets-the-road so so back.

• bikes