Down Memory Lane and Flying Bikes

We’re back, alive and mostly in one piece…er 4 pieces. The plague has left us and all that remains is a prescription for Amoxicillin procured at a secret Urgent Care facility late on New Years night.

What an awesome trip. I’m sure you all had great holidays and I won’t bore you with the details of mine, except a few.

But first, I’d like to say I now have the evidence to confirm a theory I’ve been harboring for quite some time. The funniest people in the world read my blog. Dan and I have been killing ourselves laughing at the name suggestions you’ve given for our van. We have a few favorites but we’re not decided. Dan mumbled something about making a spreadsheet to help with the decision just before falling into bed. So, if you’ve got a name and you want it on the spreadsheet, you’d better get your comments up. The competition is steep but the reward is so SWEET!

Okay, so for our anniversary, we had a day-long celebration, as only the parents of 2 young children can. We leeched free babysitting from our families while we:

-Woke up to gorgeous flowers (that was me only. Dude actually woke up first and purchased said vegetative reproductive organs)
-Went to see Narnia
-Traveled to –Mart to buy something we forgot
-Came home to nurse the bebe (pronounced beeb)
-Drove up the canyon to the gorgeous basin of hills where Dan originally proposed under a sea of stars….ahh…..
-Out to dinner, massive massive portions of pasta consumed
-Went home to feed the bebe
-Out to see King Kong
-Home to feed the bebe (what can I say? He really really likes me.)

It was a day of romance and memories. Now, lest we all rush for our tongue depressors to begin a gag-fest, I will move on to the other memories, the memories involving bicycles. Those are more fun, if not nearly as romantical.

Junior year of college, my roommate Amy and I decided to take our mountain bikes in to a local shop for a “tune-up,” costing around $30 for each bike. The bikes were in great condition so we decided to take em for a spin. We left straight from the bike shop and headed up the canyon for a ride.

It was a sweet ride. Helmets were worn. No jumps were made. We rode in the mountains on pavement. We were wussies. Wussies without bungee cords.

The drive to the trail was okay because the canyon winds were with us. We just placed our bikes carefully on the rack and the wind held them down as we drove. No prob.

On the way back, not so much luck. We’re driving along, talking about school when Amy calmly interrupts me to say, “There goes one.”

“Op! There goes the other one.”

She was so calm, so freakishly calm.

“There goes what, I ask?” Then I look back. During this conversation, the bikes had been launched by the wind, 50 feet in the air and I was able to turn around in time to see them hit the ground and go bouncing down the highway.

We pulled over. We ran back to see what we could salvage. The bikes were lying in the middle of the road, right around a tight curve and cars were coming around the curve at 50+ miles per hour, swerving and just missing them.

We ran out, rescued the mangled bikes and headed straight back to the shop where we had picked them up from their ridiculous bike LOFs 45 MINUTES EARLIER.

Sheepishly we asked the store owners to “re-tune” the bikes. This involved major repairs, new tires and a bill of almost $200.

What did we get out of it? A smashed tire rim to hang on the wall. Xtreme bikers stand up and take note. This is what can happen to you if you dare to mountain bike with Kathryn and Amy. When we go riding, we really get some sweet air.