Biking: Like a Kid

Like every other suburban American boy back around 1970, my first bike was a Schwinn Stingray. Rob's was red, mine was green, and Ed's was blue, and we rode them all the time.

Besides transportation the Stingrays provided entertainment, and many tests of skill: you had to learn to ride with no hands, of course, and to skid, and to do a decent wheelie. We invented all sorts of bike games of speed/ agility/ creativity to while away the summer hours -- one involved going as slowly as you could around our neighbor's driveway, at times balancing on your bike at almost a dead stop.

With the banana seat you could give someone else a ride, too. And Mom would send us on simple errands, from a pretty early age.

Rob and I both graduated to 10-speeds the same Christmas, a few years later. We were living in West Chester, Pennsylvania (outside of Philadelphia) at the time, and I seem to recall having to pony up half of the $160 purchase price. Now our range was really expanded -- to school, to church, to every friend's house, to the pool in the summer, and to the Exton Mall.

Ahh, the mall -- Utopia for a kid in junior high, especially with a couple of bucks in his pocket. Fast food everywhere, the "Time Out" arcade, and Spencer's Gifts, with its funny (and sometimes naughty) inventory of junk. But in hindsight the best part was the freedom: to go wherever, with whomever, and do whatever, as long as you were home for dinner.

To get to the mall from our house you had to go down the hill on Ship Road. It was huge -- from the top you'd shift into 10th gear, stand up and pedal hard, and in a few seconds you were going so fast you couldn't drive the pedals any more. You'd tuck into a crouch and coast all the way down, going 30 mph? 35? We timed the mall trip once, and it took 12 minutes to get there and 30 minutes home. (You'd grind your way back up the hill in 1st or 2nd gear, and sometimes just have to walk your bike up.)

A few years later and biking became second-class transportation -- kid stuff, when you could be driving. But I didn't have a car, so it was usually better than walking. I commuted to a couple of summer jobs on that same 10-speed.

The bike has generally been a toy since then, taken out a few times a year for fun. My current one I bought when I lived in Chicago, 17 (yikes!) years ago. It serves me just fine, and I certainly haven't used it enough to justify anything newer or fancier.

I've been getting out for long rides on weekend mornings this summer, well before the kids are awake, and I'm really enjoying it. Heading north from Evanston you can pick up a couple of different bike paths, or just stay on the scenic north suburban streets. I did a 30-mile ride this way a couple of weeks ago (to Lake Forest and back), which was pushing it for me, but I survived.

Heading south there's a trail along McCormick Boulevard, next to the canal, which takes you through the narrow sculpture park all the way to Devon Avenue in Chicago. With a short jog east and south you pick up the trail on the east side of the canal, and it takes you through Chicago city parkland all the way down to Lawrence. I haven't yet taken Lawrence east to Lake Michigan, where the lakefront trail then goes right downtown -- maybe this weekend.

For me the suburban ride north is beautiful and the Chicago ride south is exciting, the way most things Chicago are to a suburbanite. I don't think I'm exactly hooked on biking, in the obsessive-compulsive way my family tends to do things, but it's a nice composite of exercise, sightseeing, and fresh air. I'll mind the cars, and maybe see you out there?

Pat

Instant Karma

Sometimes things happen for obvious reasons, and other times for no reason at all. I'm not sure about this next one...


About 15 years ago we were at a summer Sunday afternoon get-together at my folks' place in Mundelein: Rach and I, my brother Ed, my sister Maura, and Maura's then-boyfriend Steve. Ed and I went out front to play softball catch in the street -- we were both on (different) softball teams at the time.


Steve was not our favorite among Maura's series of boyfriends. (That spot is reserved for her final boyfriend, now husband of 8 years or so, Dan.) Steve was fussy -- fussy about his hair, but especially fussy about his car. He had just bought a BMW M5: red, a few years old, in pristine condition. He would sit around and read the owner's manual for hours, to understand and commit to memory every feature of his new treasure. (In hindsight: What a twit!)


Ed threw one pop fly to me that came a little close to Steve's car, parked on the street in front of the house, and we both laughed a little at what could have happened. Then it got to be a game, as Ed threw nothing but pop flies, many of them over Steve's hood or windshield, that took me great acrobatic effort to catch before they hit his car. Steve came out onto the front porch at one point and saw what was going on, and was dying to say something, but couldn't quite decide what.


(I suppose it's bad enough when you're dating to have to deal with a girl's protective father, let alone her protective, sometimes reckless older brothers...)


Ed then uncorked his highest, deepest throw yet, but it got away from him a little. It sailed over Steve's BMW, past where I could reach...and came right down on Ed's own car, parked behind. It cracked his windshield. There wasn't really anything to say, so he just shook his head ruefully, and we went inside for dinner. I don't recall any reaction from Steve, but I can imagine what he was thinking.


So Steve got tormented, but his car wasn't touched at all; Ed got a healthy serving of instant karma for his pop fly throwing; and I got away scot-free, it seems, even though I was a willing co-tormentor. What can all of this possibly mean?


Pat

Biking: Public Service Announcement

I've been out riding my bike more, now that the weather's decent. Biking always reminds me of being a kid, probably because I rode so much back then. The thrill of going kinda fast, the freedom, the fresh air -- will I always feel 12 years old on a bike?

My neighbor Greg was in a bike accident two weekends ago. He was crossing a busy street (McCormick Boulevard) with the light, and either a) a car crept into the crosswalk in front of him, or b) he actually ran the red light. He's not sure, as the next thing he remembered was being in the ambulance and heading to the hospital.

He wound up with a concussion and a black eye, and spent a night in the hospital, but he's doing OK. Three other important details/thoughts:

• Greg's a responsible guy -- but accidents do happen. And some kids (e.g. mine) are known to be just a little less responsible.
• His helmet was really dented. Imagine if he hadn't been wearing one...
• He happened to have his wallet with him, so they were able to call his wife and have her come to the hospital. Do you carry any ID when you bike? Do your kids?

As follow-up, in addition to giving the kids a little lecture about bike safety, I labeled each of their helmets with their names and with my cell phone number. That way (assuming they're wearing them, which they'd better be) if anything bad happened I'd find out right away. I labeled my own helmet, too, with our home phone number.

I'll share some happy biking thoughts, probably next week, but wanted to get this message out there as summer arrives. Have the bike safety talk with your kids, make sure they've got some type of ID and wear their helmets, and follow the same advice yourself. Thanks.

Pat