Le Velo

On the Dangers and Thrills of Biking in France and Buffalo, a complete history.

When we were in France, we biked a lot. Vincent’s brother, Jérèmie, told us about these free e-bikes they had in the city, so we zoomed all around Lyon. It was really exciting and fun. One time I rode in the little cargo part of Jérèmie bike. It was somewhere between child seat and taxi. I took a selfie.

I have a history of biking. About ten years ago, I was one of the worst cyclists in Buffalo. I came last in every race. It was an amazing study of failure. I loved it. I wrote a blog about it. Anything that excites me in my life, I turn into a writing project.

Is that strange? No. Everything can be a project. Just think about your interests: birding! sourdough bread! birds eating sourdough bread! Just make these thoughts into essays. It’ll be fun.

Recently, Vincent and I got out my old racing bikes and we changed them into city bikes. We put a basket on the back of one and a child’s seat on the back of another.

We’ve biked to the museum, to the co-op and to my daughter’s school.

Like many things in parenthood, it’s much easier with both parents. Biking with Vincent and my daughter is pretty fun.

But, one day, I stood in a power pose in front of my mirror and said, “I’m going to bike to the library alone with my daughter.”

Then I whispered to myself: I can do this. I can totally do this.

Then I chanted, Self-confidence! Self-confidence!

But, I was terrified.

I was terrified that my bicycle was going tip over and my daughter would fall down. I was terrified we’d get hit by a car. I was terrified about everything. I am often terrified about everything. I live most of my life in a near-terrified state, but the thing is: I do stuff anyway.

But, I got her onto to the bike seat and I got on the bike and I biked to the library.

It was thrilling. It was wonderful. The breeze was in the small bit of my hair that came out from the bike helmet. The sun was on my neck. My daughter was yelling, “Faster! Faster!”

However. We got to the library. Got two books (because I could only bring what could fit in my backpack, which already had like eight changes of clothes for my daughter and some wipes and a snack). Everything was going pretty well. Until: it was time to leave and I couldn’t find my bike lock keys.

Disaster!

I asked the librarians. They looked around and kindly said, “Hmm. No one has turned any in.”

I was practically shouting, “Where are my bike keys? Where the heck are they?” I realize now that I was being really loud in the library, but no one really seemed to mind.

Then, my daughter was taking out this DVD of Paw Patrol from the shelf. It suddenly struck me: how much I don’t like Paw Patrol AND that my keys were in my rain jacket, which was in my crowded backpack.

VICTORY IS MINE!

We left the library. My daughter grabbed this white pamphlet and was like, “I need this.” And I was like, “Okay.” But really I was just thinking about getting us home.

I got us on the bikes. We did not tip over. I got us through the dangerous street and onto the side streets, but then . . .the white pamphlet (which I think was for some kind of library Renaissance Fair or something) flew out of my daughter’s hands.

“Mommy! No! I need that. I need that!”

I realized what had happened and I was just like, “No. We can’t go back. We can never go back. We have to leave that Renaissance Fair advertisement behind.”

And my daughter was like, “No! I need it!”

And I was like, “It’s gone. It’s gone, my love. We have to go forward now. We will never know the hours or dates of that Renaissance Fair. We will never know the taste of water-dunking apples or the sound of knights pretending to fight.”

The only way out is through.

Fin

(my daughter took this photo)