With the Tour de France spinning through its first week, I've decided to backpedal just a bit and invite you to take a ride through the love affair of a father, his son, and their wonderful human-powered rolling machines.
I'd like you to close your eyes (have someone else read aloud to you or email me and I'll provide the narrative free of charge).
You are cycling on a warm, steamy day on one of the many wonderful bike trails in the area (your child is with you because after all, this is a column about how we spend time with them). Suddenly you veer a little to the right. Ut-oh! Your tire hits the edge of the pavement. The handlebar twists and both you and your child are skidding along the ground until a wooden fence intervenes and interrupts your sideways progress. Now open your eyes. Neither you nor your child are wearing a helmet. (Can you name the movie I just referenced?)
I have probably ridden 1,000 miles with my youngest child (The Boy) attached to my bike or following me in one form or another. The following is a list of our Top Five Crashes.
(OK so you're probably asking yourself, "Why the heck is he telling us about his crashes?" Well I shouldn't be revealing this secret to you but many times a writer will pull his readers into a story or an article to get a more important point across. That way he doesn't sound preachy or cause you to stop reading before he makes his very important and sometimes preachy point. Yes, some writers will do this.)
Dad and The Boy's Top Five Bicycling Crashes
1. The Rocks 09.07.00
The Boy is riding in a baby-seat attached directly to the pannier rack. The pavement on the bike trail in front of me ends abruptly with little warning. Smoothness turns to golfball-size rocks. We fall sideways. The side rails of the seat protect The Boy as his helmet rests against the left side on impact (which is dulled when my own body and helmet interfere with my skull smashing against the rocks). The Boy wakes up stunned but well protected.
2. The Cape 08.23.01
The road to Nauset Beach — I spin towards a crowded four-way intersection — we have the red light. I'm pulling The Boy in his rolling chariot. It's like a tent on wheels. He and his Teddy Bear both have their helmets on. I'm ready to stop ... my shoe cleat does not separate from the pedal as preferred. There's always a two-second window where the same two words escape through your lips before making a spectacle of yourself. I land hard. Shoulder-helmet-OUCH! The hinge is cleverly designed so that toddler and bear remain upright while Daddy is probably water cooler talk for the commuters.
3. The Pole 08.07.02
The Boy has graduated to a tag-along style bike. It's sort of half a bike with a seat, handlebars and back wheel. The bike attaches to the seat post of the adult bike. It takes a little getting used to because you are basically pulling another bike. We are nearing the end of the trail — the road is directly ahead. To avoid running into traffic, a sharp right turn is needed immediately after rolling through a set of poles placed about three feet apart. I clear the obstacle easily. The Boy being pulled behind me does not. We are cut in half. The Boy goes down — helmet hits steel pole.
4. The Dip 07.17.03
The most famous crash of them all! The Boy is on training wheels. I'm following closely on rollerblades. We are close to where the trail inclines very quickly before being dissected by a road. I instruct The Boy to apply his brakes. He panics. I panic. We are descending The Dip. I grab his handlebars just as he remembers how to apply his brakes. He hits the ground hard and we roll as one — me, him, and the bike. We roll twice more. He's holding onto his bike as I hold him against my body. Body parts and helmets make contact with pavement and bike as we roll to a stop just short of the road.
5. The One-Hand Release 09.28.04
The Boy is on two wheels now. Two wheels and two hands. He will not take one hand off to take a drink, scratch an itch, or pick his nose, causing us to make frequent stops. We've talked about the steps over and over again. Finally he decides to release his left hand from his left handlebar. He forgets to ease up on the pressure being applied to the right handlebar. The next sound is bike, body, and head meeting a wooden fence.
My hope is that many of you will enjoy the thrills and survive the spills of bicycling this summer. Please be sure your child's helmet is properly fitted and you are setting a good example by wearing one as well. Seriously, it could save your lives.
