I'd been looking forward to last night for days; it was going to be the night of my first big bike ride. In addition to my daily walking, I decided I wanted to ride my almost-new bike that had been hibernating in the back of the garage for the past six and a half years. The bike probably didn't have ten miles on it. In fact, the tires still had the little thin rubber nubs on them. So Dad aired up the tires, and I bought a very cool new bigger seat for it in preparation, and last night after supper I took to the road. My goal is to work my way up to riding to and from the VFW - a round trip of a bit over six miles. Last night, I was going to try for three miles.
I was doing great, pedaling along on the very cool new paved bike/walking path that runs parallel to the river throughout the city. Then it happened. A mile and a half into the ride, the right pedal came off. I tried to screw it back on, but didn't have any luck. A very nice young couple came along on their new bikes, and the husband offerred to help, but he couldn't get the pedal back on, either. There was no need to call home; Mom and Dad were out in the yard, and so were the neighbors. So I did the only thing I could do - just walk the bike back a mile and a half to the house.
I'm not ashamed to admit I was worn out when I got home. But at least I got quite a workout in last night. I took the pedal to work today and asked some of the machinists if they could "chase the thread" (machinist lingo) but it was metric, and they couldn't do it. So tomorrow, we're going to have JJ across the street just weld the pedal on. And while he's at it, I'll have him weld the other pedal, too. I dare them to come off.
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