"After all," she explained, "the streets are paved, and there are sidewalks everywhere."
"It's not like pedaling on gravel which I always did in the country," she commented.
Fortunately, her unburdened Schwinn didn't go on the rummage sale, and it came to town with us. Actually, when I bought it for her, she said she didn't want multiple gears and all that fancy stuff which cyclists now need.
"Just get me an old-fashioned bike with a comfortable seat," she instructed. "And one that I don't go head-over-handlebars every time I get on it."
Well, I didn't want her to get all skinned up either, so I got her one that she could ride tall in the saddle and not hunched over like most of today's bikers are.
However, she didn't leave well enough alone!
Instead, she said we should get two of them so we could go pedaling together. A bicycle-meant-for-two was suggested, but that thought was vetoed (by me) because we tend to go in opposite directions most of the time.
I also turned thumbs down to her idea that we should have a coupe of two-wheelers so we could go journeying side by side.
"Too much togetherness," I unthinkingly said, "is the stuff that leads to monotony."
Boy I could see that I struck a nerve there. She bristled and declared: "Our life isn't either monotonous!"
"We don't need two bikes to prove that our marriage is okay," I hastened to add, trying to appease her. I didn't want a velocipede to come between us.
She calmed down enough to tell me that I needed exercise, too. And, besides that, it was a good chance to see the neighborhood.
She almost convinced me, but I caught myself just in time. I might be bicycling with her, and I'd miss something good on television, I thought. Or maybe an important telephone call. That was the gist of my argument.
It didn't deter her, though, and I could see I needed more verbal ammunition to avoid a bicycle duo.
"But I haven't ridden for years," I moaned, hoping that would win a point or two.
"And besides that, they don't sell training wheels in my size," I muttered, hoping that a little humor would do the trick.
"Don't worry," she said confidently. "Bicycling is just like swimming; once you've mastered it, it's something you never forget."
A brick wall doesn't have to fall on me, so I could see that I was losing the war of words. In time, I acquiesced.
I figured winter would come along soon, and I'd be saved by the snow. After all, you can't go riding in two feet of the white stuff no matter if the streets are paved and there's sidewalks everywhere.
Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow!
� 2005 Robert F. Karolevitz