To paraphrase the immortal Rupert Holmes,
“If you like Pino Grigio
And getting caught at the mall
If you’re not into yoga
If you have half a brain
If you’d like our kids to be asleep by midnight
I can’t stay up much later than that
Then I’m the love that you’ve looked for
Text me and escape…..”
I love to shop. Chuck swears the fluorescent lighting makes his eyeballs itch. Chuck likes to golf. I am so awful that I can shag my own balls back at the driving range. However, one thing that we both love (other than Nick, Amanda, Wrigley, the Cubs and going to the movies) is biking! We’re hardly ready for the Tour de France, but we do a perfectly fine job for amateur weekend riders.
We rode a quick 20 miles Saturday evening and upon our return, Chuck said, “Hey, I was thinking, why don’t we ride 12 miles towards the river, stop at Starbucks and ride home tomorrow morning?” What a perfect idea! Amanda was at a sleepover and we shoo Nick out the door at 6:50 AM for the Caddy Shack. It’s a date!
Sunday morning comes. I hand Nick a toasted Pop-Tart (brown sugar and cinnamon with frosting….breakfast of champions!), a bottle of water and fulfill his request that I make him a tee-time for 3PM. I clearly have Personal Assistant written all over my forehead. I bounce back upstairs and ask Chuck, “Back to sleep or bike ride?” Bike ride it is.
As I am tying my shoes, Wrigley asks me, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take me for a run? I’d really like to go for a run.” He’s normally a very effective and persuasive communicator, but I am really looking forward to our bike ride.
Water bottles filled. Cell phone, camera (blogging addiction) and money tucked safely into the pouch attached to my handlebars, and we’re ready to go. We’re riding along, chatting and enjoying the day, when all of the sudden my tire goes completely flat. Shoot!
We turn our bikes around and make the walk of shame back to the nearest gas station. I run inside to get change for the air hose machine and while I’m there, completely on impulse, I purchase a lottery ticket. If you don’t hear from me the rest of the week, my family and I have flown the coop for an exotic and obscenely over-priced family vacation. More than likely though, you’ll hear from me tomorrow….
Chuck starts putting air in my tire and soon discovers a great big rusty nail. We’re not going to be riding anywhere. It looks like we’re going to have to hoof it home. We grab our bikes and get to walking. The Prairie Path is swarming with mosquitoes, and isn’t really the most direct route home anyway, so we walk along the side of the road; around the bend, along the rails, in the gravel and the muck (leaves of three…leave them be). Chuck wants me to take his bike, ride home and meet him with our Yukon XL, but his bike is really too tall for me. I suggest he just ride home, but he is a gentleman and won’t leave me alone on the side of the road. So, for five miles we walk (and talk and laugh). The last two miles we are close enough to home, so Chuck rides ahead to get the car, while I continue to walk.
With one mile to go, Chuck and Wrigley pull up along the side of the road and ask if I need a ride. Chuck loads up my bike, and Wrigley says to me, “you know, this would never have happened if you had just taken me for a run…..” How true! But really, what’s the difference? We talked more, walked more and laughed more. What more could possible matter?