GranFondo Fever
Woman About Town
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The last few weeks our family has thought of nothing outside of Tehachapi’s first annual Gran Fondo. As the month progressed, we saw more and more participants riding the terrain in preparation for the upcoming event. This has motivated our entire household and today it has culminated into a near frenzy. With excitement in the air, the kids and I have drug out all our old bicycles from the garage and started the necessary maintenance for our family’s involvement. Mind you, none of us will be actually participating in the event, but we will be exceptionally ardent bystanders.
“Get the air pump,” I instructed my oldest son, “I need to fix Dad’s flat.”
“That tire’s not flat,” said my son gesturing towards it. “It’s missing.”
“What happened to it?” I asked puzzled and was met by a telling silence from my once clamorous crew.
“Well, it just didn’t get up and walk away,” I said a little exasperated.
“That one did!” exclaimed my daughter excitedly pointing to the tire bouncing down the driveway.
“That’s mine,” said my oldest son frustrated. The tire continued down the driveway and bounced off my mother’s fender as she pulled in. She had graciously offered to pick up some items for us during her weekly SaveMart run.
“Go help Grandma!” I instructed the boys. I waved at my mom, as I walked my daughter through the back door into the house. She found her father on the couch and sat down next to him.
“Mommy wanted all of us to go on a bike ride but your tire just up and rolled away,” she said settling down with her doll. “I said ‘if Daddy doesn’t go, I don’t want to go’.”
Touch by her sentiment he offered, “Do you want to go for a bike ride? You could help me look for the tire? Then we all can go for a ride.”
“That would be cheating,” she said never looking up from her doll, “because, I already know where it is.”
Surprised, my husband and I looked at each other, always slightly stunned at how little we actually know about what’s going on in our own home.
“It’s in the tree,” confessed my daughter pointing at the oak beyond the front porch. She sheepishly nodded toward my second child’s school picture and said, “He was gonna make a tire swing for us; but it got stuck in the tree when he tried to throw it over the branch.” She suspended her doll by its arms, timid at the confession.
I looked out the window saw it hanging there. “Well, it’s probably okay. We’ll just have to take it down and see.”
“No!” protested my daughter. “Grandma’s been putting bird seed in it.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because I told her it was my art project, so he wouldn’t get into trouble!”
“Well, that’s the only part we don’t like,” said my husband joining me at the window to assess the damage. “But we can talk about it later with your brother.”
Just then our remaining brood walked through the door carrying all sorts of things but very few groceries.
“Mother, what did you get?”
“I got all the things on the list,” she answered happily, “…..and some bird seed!” My younger two looked at each other guiltily.
I took the paper from out of her hand. I had been trying to get the kids in the habit of adding the things they needed onto the weekly list. “Barbie… tennis balls… flip flops.” I read aggravated. “It’s not a Christmas list! It’s supposed to be for food.”
“Keep reading,” prompted my mother.
I turned it back over, “Oreos, Otter Pops, cupcakes,” I finished.
“See, that’s better,” said my husband sarcastically. “Besides you’ll appreciate all that sugar once you start the 100 mile practice course.”
“Extreme sports aren’t really my forte but it would be such a good lesson for the kids on endurance. I’m just afraid of how little of it I have left. But maybe you could ride with them.”
“Absolutely not,” affirmed my husband decidedly. “The best time to start something like this probably would have been about twenty years ago.”
“Unless you are my age and you’re looking at a solid forty,” said my mother cracking herself up.
“Yes, I’ve heard that African proverb but you’re forgetting the most important part, ‘the second best time to do something is today’; because, before you know it, another twenty years will have passed.”
“This conversation is getting depressing,” said my mother turning on her heels abandoning us for the kitchen.
“Who wants to go to Big 5 to get a new tire for my bike?” asked my husband. The children went ballistic. We all piled into the car as I watched my mother haul the ladder out to the porch for the very important, task of filling our daughter’s new bird feeder.
