cycling

It took Alice a solid month to get comfortable on the back of David’s bicycle. Until she did, he patiently walked his bike around the neighborhood with her buckled into the baby seat.

But then, one afternoon, she decided she loved it. She was fearless. “Go really fast,” she demanded. And off they go, once or twice a week now.

I kept quiet.

Don’t laugh, but I hadn’t been on a bike since before Alice was born. Probably longer. They say you never forget how to ride a bike, but, seriously, I was always pretty wobbly at my best.

So David and Alice would get set for an evening bike ride. David would ask if I wanted him to wheel my Schwinn out of the garage, and I’d say, “Shoot. No helmet. You guys have fun. Be careful.”

Finally he said, “We should just get you a helmet.”

I went out with them for the first time a couple of weeks ago. I let them lead the way. “So where are we going?” I asked.

“Maybe the park, maybe the ice cream store,” David said. “She’ll tell us.”

Alice spoke up. “Chocolate milk store.”

That means Starbucks. (We should be embarrassed, right?)

We took off, and every so often, she would crane her head around to make sure I was keeping up.

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