Two-Wheel Time Machine

I hadn’t gotten more than 50 yards when doubt crept in.
The hamstrings started to ache. The biting, chilly wind blew through my body. I quickly began to assign blame for this predicament.
“Who’s dumb idea was this,” I pondered.
Being a master of stupid choices, the blame quickly settled in familiar territory. It was supposed to be a simple bike ride around Lewiston. Having been to the workout room at the Sun Journal the day before, I was looking for an easy day of it. Of course, I always say that and end up working harder and more sore than the day before.
My backpack was loaded with my keys and a couple of Ronnie James Dio CD’s. I’d do a quick ride around town and make my way to the SJ and finish my workout there on the treadmill and elliptical.
Of course, the sunny skies that appeared through my windows from the inside looking out didn’t forecast chilly temperatures or the brisk wind. Here I was wearing shorts and trying to end the revolt of my muscles in mass protest to activity.
As I cycled past Bates College and made my way toward Lewiston High School and the Colisee, I settled in and couldn’t help but be reminded how biking always reminds me of my childhood.
Maybe it is the feeling of getting on a bike and a few simple leg movements and you’re in motion. It almost seems magical. The air is rushing by. You’re balancing on the edge of these two tires. You’d think the simple task of turning the car key and stepping on the gas would provide the same thrill. Sometimes it does – at least until somebody has to buy the gas.
Granted, I don’t have to travel far to find the juvenile in me. I was voted “Best Kid” in our family by one of my nephews, and he was about four or five at the time. But as I continued my ride I continued thinking how it reinvigorates the kid in me. I almost tried to bike through the handicap parking signs at the Colisee like a slalom course but thought better of it.
I’ve only had this bike for about nine months. I probably wouldn’t have it at all except the SJ’s wellness program contributes to such purchases, and I find any way possible to make the SJ give me more money. I’ve even contemplated taking up smoking just so I can quit and get the SJ’s allowance for those that give up the habit. Too bad they don’t have allowances for all my bad habits.
Anyway, today was just the second time I’ve had the bike out since last fall. There were still some snow banks out there, and I even steered clear of the Colisee, even though it looks like all the snow on the roof is gone. A hockey referee from Canada parked inside the barriers and too close to the building a month or two ago. When the snow on the roof let loose, it came roaring down and crushed his SUV. How do you say, “Look out below” in French?
With each trip on my two-wheeler, I can’t help but think back on the days when I used to ride my bike as a kid. We’d ride our bikes everywhere. I know some of the roads in Gorham better by bike than I do by car. We’d cover miles and miles in one day.
I didn’t have my bike down in Owls Head for more than one summer, but now when I ride up there I can’t help but reminisce about those days. I’d ride it over to the peninsula to see a girl. I even rode it into Rockland to see her at work, only to discover she wasn’t working that day. I learned not to assume at an early age.
She and I, along with another friend, even rode our bikes from Owls Head to Rockport to spend the day with another friend. I still wonder who conned me into that trip. That was probably my my first experiences that a pretty girl can convince me to do just about anything.
I rode my bike by her house last fall on a trip to Owls Head Lighthouse. At least I wasn’t riding with a boom box in my hand and a basketball under my arm like I did back then when I’d go shoot hoops at another friend’s house.

Today, riding a bike feels a little bit more like work. It’s kind of like kayaking. It’s fun and a great chance to enjoy the outdoors, but if you’re not careful, you might accidentally get a lot of exercise.
I tell people that I’m a triathlete. I’ll take out my kayak. Then I’ll ride my bike. Then I’ll sit on my butt and read the rest of the day because I can’t move because my muscles are on strike.
But as much as it makes my muscles revolt, it makes my spirits soar. It’s the same thrill and enjoyment I had when I’d ride my bike anywhere and everywhere as a kid.
So next time I head out and start to second-guess my bike ride, the kid in me will tell the old timer to shut up and ride.