Just Like Riding A Bike
“You know….that phrase just like riding a bike…it’s supposed to mean that you never forget how to ride a bike.”
These were the words spoken by Rabbit that brought me out of my reverie concerning my next adventure into the unknown. Unfortunately, I knew where he was going with this beginning.
“But in your case, it doesn’t seem to mean that, because it’s obvious you forgot how to ride a bike.”
I laid my notebook in my lap and glanced at Rabbit. As usual, we were piled in bed for the evening, Rabbit with a sketchpad, me with my notepad, and Mooch…well…Mooch staring at both of us and waiting for someone to break out the snacks.
Rabbit was staring at the bruise on my right shin.
“I didn’t forget how to ride a bike. You get on, you pedal, and you try to steer a straight line. What’s not to remember?”
“Coordination, reflexes…oh, and try not to drive face first into a big, metal propane tank enclosure.”
“Hey, I tried to turn, but the turning radius of the bike was not what I expected,” I defended myself.
“Which means, you forgot how to ride a bike….” He broke off and something about his expression let me know that his brain had kicked in and he was thinking of past events. “Well…maybe…not.”
I stared, waiting. Mooch waited, too, just not for the same reasons.
“I seem to recall now that you are the one who wrecked her bike as a little kid, hence the big scar on your right knee.”
“I could ride a bike then, too.”
“Hun, you were riding on the sidewalk in a straight line and just somehow miraculously fell over into the road.”
“So. Stranger things have happened.”
“Yeah? Aren’t you the one who tried to race down the road at breakneck speed, your foot slipped off the pedal, got stuck on the down-stroke, which dragged your toes across the pavement long enough for it to shave all but one toenail off, before you pitched into someone’s yard?”
“Yeah. That was me. I was a daredevil.”
“Devil maybe. Dare? That’s arguable.”
I sighed.
“And aren’t you the one that convinced Kenny to tie the front of your bike to the back of his bike so he could tow you down the road?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked, sinking lower into the bed.
“And didn’t you think that this rope would somehow make it possible for you to let go of the handlebars, while you put your feet up on the same handlebars and relaxed while Kenny pedaled away and towed you down the road?”
“It seemed like an innovative idea at the time,” I whimpered.
“So, you were totally unaware of the dynamics of that situation, the engineering impossibility, the—
“Hey, I was six, for chrissake. I didn’t know anything about physics.”
Rabbit grinned. “Just making a point….” He frowned. “I think.”
“Which is now not that I forgot how to ride a bike, but that I never knew how to ride a bike to begin with,” I quipped.
“Yup.”
“I know how to ride a bike,” I muttered as I picked up my notepad.
“Hun, in the past two months, you’ve wrecked your bike three times.”
“That’s not so bad…really.”
“You’ve only ridden your bike four times in the last two months.”
I shrugged. “So, I’m clutzy. You knew that before you married me.”
“Yup.” He grinned. “And you’re cute, and I love ya.”
“Love you, too.”
Mooch grumbled, letting us know that her patience was wearing thin and she wanted some snacks. A string of slobber dripped from the side of her mouth.
“Don’t drool, dog,” I grumbled back at her.
She obediently licked her lips.
“So, weird,” Rabbit mused. “She’s not a dog. She’s something…but not a dog.”
“She looks like a dog right now, though. Look at that slobber. We better break out the snacks before it feels like a flood in here.”
Copyright 2008 C. D. Blizzard
