Ready to ride

I thought I might chicken out as I clomped down the steep driveway in new cycling shoes. My loyal friend, who agreed to play human training wheels for the day, guided my bike down the hill so as to not complicate my descent. I remembered watching another friend fall awkwardly on the soccer field in high school and hearing her collarbone snap. By the time I got to the street, I was most certain my collarbone would be broken in at least three places from spilling off the bike.

The ride started out well, although the human training wheels routine—friend holding seat and top tube while I clipped in—was absolutely necessary. Once my feet were in, I felt a surprising oneness with the bike, and charged happily up the hill toward my first intersection. I don’t live in a high-traffic area, so I was pretty sure I’d be able to pull through a left turn without a full stop.

Not so. “The Cat Lady,” as she is affectionately known by many neighbors, had chosen that exact moment to come roaring up the hill in her ancient, spray-painted Mercury Marquis. I felt a moment of panic, remembered my intact collarbone, and concentrated on swinging a right turn instead of my intended left. I glided happily onto the open road, and could already tell the improved efficiency and comfort brought by switching to cycling shoes. I actually felt more stable on the bike, and buzzed around the block to return home to show off my skills.

The coolest part of the ride—it was only about a ten-minute jaunt, but I’ve learned to build up new things slowly and quit while I’m ahead—was being passed by a sleek, black Mercedes. The driver gave me a wide birth, and I could tell he had to press harder on the gas pedal than he originally intended to get around me, because I was almost doing the speed limit, and most people don’t expect that of a biker.

Getting off the bike might have been a bit of a problem without my dear training wheels, but the whole thing seemed dangerously effortless. I got off the bike feeling exhilarated and confident, and I can’t wait to clip in and ride again. I may fall next time, but the initial sting of fear is gone, and I’m sure glad to not have to attach to this post the picture I had in mind—a view of the emergency room ceiling.