Last summer, I had brilliantly decided to take the kids on a bike ride. Mind you, I hadn't been on a bike in, oh, let's say... 5 years?! But! I had decided to buy a trailer for my bike (translation, bribed the Hubster into buying and installing one), so the little ones could come along on the adventure that Sam and I had planned.
Ha! "adventure", key word here peeps.
First we had to find everyone's helmets, that took *forever* and with much searching and whining (mostly on my part and on both accounts), we realized too late that we had neglected to buy Charlie one. No problem, with much coaxing and compliments of admiration, he gamely wore Audie's old toddler helmet, complete with princess stickers and pink bunnies. Next, we had to get the bike out of the shed. Dear God, what an experience! It was buried under everything you could ever imagine being in a shed. I dusted it off, having been full of cobwebs-hello?! I said I hadn't ridden in YEARS!! Hubster did his job, he attached the trailer. C'mon, If he doesn't dust the house, he isn't about to dust my bike!
That being said, we were well on our way, until I looked down and realized the tires we flat. So, I walk my ass into the garage, which by the way could qualify us for a gig on Hoarders. Here, I spend what feels like hours looking for my tire pump... Once found, I start going about the business of inflating my tires, with various calls to he Hubs (at work) regarding the amount of air one should pump into their tires. I'm pretty sure he would've liked to strangle me, but then, let's be honest, when doesn't he?!lol
Since the tires are all set, the bike is dusted, the trailer's hitched, helmets are on, waters bottle are in place, fruits snacks in each kids pockets and kids are buckled in (whew!) we're ready to roll! Except that I parked my car too close to the back entrance and have, unwittingly, blocked us in. Not only that, but I realized this fact too late, and now have the bike trailer tire jammed into the car's front tire and neither will give...
This is craptastic.
So, I'm out there pulling and swearing and kicking at the tires, while the kids are still precariously perched inside the trailer swaying to and fro, as I try to jimmy them loose. I know, I should've just backed the car out a bit, but, clearly, I was in the thick of things sorta speak and well, really, where were any of you with this brilliant idea when I needed it?!
Finally!!! Bike and car give way, kids hearts are racing from the upheaval and for whatever reason, I cannot get the stupid bike to ride. At all. I'm scratching my head inspecting this bike up and down for the defect, nothing looks outta place to my *untrained* eye. I give it a kick for good measure outta frustration. I get back on the bike and try peddling, nope, the handle bars still look crooked. At this point Sam is sitting on the curb waiting, somewhat patiently, for us to be on our way and the little ones are squirming in their seats in anticipation. All the while, I'm still struggling with those damn handle bars!! Why won't my bike work?! It looks bent, but I have no idea how to fix it.
This is where my kindly neighbor (whose been talking on his cell phone watching me the. Whole. Time.) comes over to offer his assistance. "You look like you could use some help." he says not unkindly, but almost apprehensive, as if he's dealing with a lunatic. Which as I said, he'd been attaching me this while time and is probably convinced I'm an escapee.
I look up flustered, "I think my bike's jammed, the handle bars won't budge an inch and the tire won't turn." he gently takes the bike from my grasp and deftly turns the handle bars around to face the *proper* direction. "Here you go ma'am, your handle bars were just backwards." His smile indicates he feels sorry or me and is still (as yet) unsure of my sanity. Now, I don't know about you all, but if I were Sam sitting on that curb, I would have driven my bike away as fast as possible so no one knew we were related. The little ones were stuck with me, but Sam at least had an out!! He stayed, loyal to a fault. Poor kid.
I was mortified as I thanked him for his assistance and mumbled that it'd been a while since I'd been on a bike. Then as swift as one can with a trailer and two toddlers hooked to the end of ones bike, I wobbly took off. With my *helpful* neighbor chuckling while calling out, "I'll just watch ya'll to make sure you make it down the street okay!"
Wow! I can honestly say, I've never been more mortified in my life. If anyone deserved a kick to he head, it would've been me that day, ninja style! This is also why my Dad is clearly precise in saying, that "to know me is to love me".