The photo above shows my road bike when it was still young and bright and shiny. It was used to illustrate a short essay that I posted in June 2008, when I was considering joining a friend in a group ride across the wilds of Darkest Iowa. My friend did it; I seem to have chickened out.
In my essay, while still pondering the Iowa boondoggle, I considered some preparation:
Ok, I'll dust my little friend off this weekend, fill his tires up (I see they've gone flat) and oil his chain, haul him upstairs, and take him out for a spin.
That was pretty much the last time that I gave my bike much attention; it has sat brooding in the basement, its spirits and its tires deflated, until now.
Today, I pushed it, deflated tires and all, some three or four blocks to the bike shop. They will give it a careful examination -- cleaning, lubing, tightening -- as well as inflating the tires. They will do this for only $90, unless the tires prove no longer sound enough to be safe for driving. With new tubes, they would add another $70 to the bill.
I should have it back in my hands by tomorrow afternoon. My test ride of an e-bike last Friday convinced me that the biking we plan for the Loire Valley in May will neither injure nor irritate my arthritic knee. But it also showed me that my leg muscles -- those used for pedaling rather than walking -- have been disused for too long. They need a work out.
And that's what I plan to give them between now and May. With my old pal, the road bike. Who was already perking up at the attention I gave it before taking it to the bike shop. He'll be beaming with happiness, like a puppy coming home from a kennel, all shiny and polished, when I go to pick him up tomorrow.
Me and my bike. A team!
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