Friday, May 6, 2011


LuLu-ism #10: If you find yourself ‘walking’ your bike instead of ‘riding’ it, make the smirky nine-year-old waiting for his school bus watching you think that that was your intention all along.

Got up early. Limbered up on Rusty. Headed out on LuLu. A gorgeous morning. Sunshine. Clear skies. Birds chirping. The only downside was that a headwind was pushing into me the minute I turned west, and just as I was plowing up a hill. I call it a hill. Lance Armstrong might call it a bump, but who’s asking him? I was feeling strong. The Fake Knee was complaining, but I didn’t listen. The heel stayed stuck to the pedal. I finally turned south and out of the wind. All is going great. Until… my right pedal falls off. I’d seen no cars this morning until just that moment. I hobbled to get out of the way just in time to watch the car run over my pedal.

Reason Number 503,567 Why God Made Cells Phones: When you’re a mile and a half away from home and you have a pedal malfunction, you can call the Hubs for help. Actually, I walked home (exercise is exercise, right?), but I wanted to make sure he’d still be there when I got back to fix my pedal. As I’m walking LuLu home, I’m also thanking the good Lord that this pedal mishap did not happen on yesterday’s ride. It was at about this same spot yesterday I stopped to take off my sweatshirt only to discover that I had a hole in my pants- a Murphy-sized hole. You could have put your fist through it. Picture if you will, black exercise pants and white undies. Remember LuLu-ism #9? It wasn’t fiction, folks.

Anyway, Gary was home and my pedal was no worse for the wear.

All pedaled-up, I tried it again, but this time I had a passenger. Yep, I decided to give Murphy-dog his inaugural ride in the basket. He took to it like a duck in water. He sat right up there with his ears perked. You’d of thought he was born to ride! We rode to the end of the road and back (almost a mile). When we got home and I let Murph down, he pranced like a Tennessee walking horse; he was so pleased with himself. Being cute is his salvation. If he wasn’t, I’m afraid he’d still have yesterday’s holey exercise pants tied around his neck in a very tight knot.

Lesson learned: Forget Plan B, at times you got to have a Plan C or even D. Check your pedals before you roll, and the back of your pants.

Have a great weekend, ya’ll.


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