Off My Sprocket - July 21, 2018
By request, another “poor Laurence” biking story – the last one for two weeks since we’re heading up to Sudbury sans nos bicyclettes. But this tale of woes does have a happy ending / fin heureuse. (Sudbury is a bilingual community. I’m practising up.)
*****
I’d been bugging Laur all last week about going biking – even though the temperature was reaching 32C come 2 pm. Laur reminded me, “The last time we did a long bike ride in this temperature, we both just about passed out.”
I cannot tell a lie. I responded, “I didn’t! I was enjoying listening to my podcasts.” But I didn’t say it very loudly, and I was down the hall before I did. I’m not completely heartless.
On Wednesday, Laur said, “I’ve got an idea for a Friday bike ride. If we start at 8 am and don’t stop for lunch, we can do 60 km and be back by noon.” I am always saying I’d like to start earlier than 9 am and I don’t want to ride if it’s less than 50 km – getting ready to bike takes a lot of time, a story in itself - so this sounded perfect to me.
Laur needs no less than two hours from when he wakes up until he is ready to leave. I can do the math – I have to get him awake by 6 am. No worries, I always start waking up at 4:30 am. At 5:30 I rolled out of bed and brought him his morning orange juice. “HERE’S YOUR ORANGE JUICE…” I said in a louder voice than usual and banged it down on the side table. One eye opens.
At 5:45 I brought him his coffee. “HERE’S YOUR COFFEE!” BANG! Other eye opens. He wasn’t stirring so I said, “Laur if you don’t want to leave until 9 am, I can just go for my morning run (slow jog.)” Laur said, “Don’t go for a run,” and started shuffling up the bed until he was almost in a sitting position. It sounded like the title to a Kenny Rogers song, so I started singing loudly, “OH JANNY…DON’T TAKE YOUR RUN TO TOWN…”
And two hours to almost the minute, we were ready to head out. (I could have done two Jan-style runs by then, but do I say anything? 😊 ) And it was a great ride. I have no clue where we went. This is because I have no sense of direction and I am listening to an engaging podcast or 10.
But here is my description of our ride anyway. “We went down the Canal trail to that place where there is a small ferry boat and we turned right. Then we pedalled on flat land, and then went up and down and up and down a lot of hills. Later we arrived in Port Dalhousie and just after that, I KNOCKED THE CHAIN OFF MY BIKE.” What?!
I don’t pedal when I’m going downhill – I coast. What’s worse is that sometimes I absentmindedly pedal backwards – and that’s how I knocked the chain off my bike’s sprocket this time. (There have been many other times.) We were only about 3 km from home and Laur could smell lunch from there, so kept on going – forgetting to check back and see where I was. I wasn’t offended – my pace can be erratic. If I am really liking my podcast, I chill out. If I am upset with it, I ride faster.
I knew Laur’d come back eventually – it’s my job to put the bread in the toaster at lunchtime - so I got off my bike and started walking. Within about five minutes, my knight in shining under-armour-cycling-shorts came back. “What happened to you!?” And I explained. Laur said, “OK, you have got to learn to put the chain back on your bike. This happens regularly.” He flipped my bike over and said, “See here!?” You just pull this up and the chain will loosen and then you just put it back on the sprocket. Watch how I do this.”
What I ended up watching was Laurence TRYING to free my chain using his hands, sticks, stones, and a bike lock - and getting covered in grease and bruises. Me, I was still listening to my podcast. And the podcaster, Bruxy Cavey, was talking about how we should relate to God and to our world-wide community, saying, “Imagine what your marriage would be like if you did everything possible to drive your spouse away…” Can’t imagine what that would be like. (Ahem!)
Time for Plan B. Laur rode his bike back to our apartment and got the van and some extra water. I had managed to knock my water over while I was making all kinds of helpful suggestions about how Laur could fix my bike. Part of me wondered if Laur’d remember to come back. He could eventually learn how to put the bread in the toaster, so wouldn’t need me anymore. Also, there is a strong history of Alzheimer’s in his family, and I’m not an ideal riding partner – but come back he did.
After lunch, Laur went outside to our patio where both bikes were parked, turned my bike over, tapped a screwdriver with a hammer into some magical location on my bike, and tra-da the chain was freed. He slid it back onto the sprocket and drove it around the apartment parking lot – just to be sure. Why didn’t I test it out? Can you imagine if I knocked the chain off my bike within two minutes of Laur repairing it?
You may also be asking why we don’t carry a bike repair kit with us. This incident could have happened 30 km from home! And we do have one but we didn’t bring it on such a hot day because it adds weight to the pack that Laur carries. (Yes, I know. Why don’t I carry it? Shh…)
I said to my hubs, “What happens if next time I get a flat tire?” Laur said, “We’ll call a cab! Or a helicopter. There is no way I’m going to try to repair a flat in the middle of nowhere.”
I chuckled, “I thought you could just wear a spare tire around your neck to balance the back pack.”
*****
I’d been bugging Laur all last week about going biking – even though the temperature was reaching 32C come 2 pm. Laur reminded me, “The last time we did a long bike ride in this temperature, we both just about passed out.”
I cannot tell a lie. I responded, “I didn’t! I was enjoying listening to my podcasts.” But I didn’t say it very loudly, and I was down the hall before I did. I’m not completely heartless.
On Wednesday, Laur said, “I’ve got an idea for a Friday bike ride. If we start at 8 am and don’t stop for lunch, we can do 60 km and be back by noon.” I am always saying I’d like to start earlier than 9 am and I don’t want to ride if it’s less than 50 km – getting ready to bike takes a lot of time, a story in itself - so this sounded perfect to me.
Laur needs no less than two hours from when he wakes up until he is ready to leave. I can do the math – I have to get him awake by 6 am. No worries, I always start waking up at 4:30 am. At 5:30 I rolled out of bed and brought him his morning orange juice. “HERE’S YOUR ORANGE JUICE…” I said in a louder voice than usual and banged it down on the side table. One eye opens.
At 5:45 I brought him his coffee. “HERE’S YOUR COFFEE!” BANG! Other eye opens. He wasn’t stirring so I said, “Laur if you don’t want to leave until 9 am, I can just go for my morning run (slow jog.)” Laur said, “Don’t go for a run,” and started shuffling up the bed until he was almost in a sitting position. It sounded like the title to a Kenny Rogers song, so I started singing loudly, “OH JANNY…DON’T TAKE YOUR RUN TO TOWN…”
And two hours to almost the minute, we were ready to head out. (I could have done two Jan-style runs by then, but do I say anything? 😊 ) And it was a great ride. I have no clue where we went. This is because I have no sense of direction and I am listening to an engaging podcast or 10.
But here is my description of our ride anyway. “We went down the Canal trail to that place where there is a small ferry boat and we turned right. Then we pedalled on flat land, and then went up and down and up and down a lot of hills. Later we arrived in Port Dalhousie and just after that, I KNOCKED THE CHAIN OFF MY BIKE.” What?!
I don’t pedal when I’m going downhill – I coast. What’s worse is that sometimes I absentmindedly pedal backwards – and that’s how I knocked the chain off my bike’s sprocket this time. (There have been many other times.) We were only about 3 km from home and Laur could smell lunch from there, so kept on going – forgetting to check back and see where I was. I wasn’t offended – my pace can be erratic. If I am really liking my podcast, I chill out. If I am upset with it, I ride faster.
I knew Laur’d come back eventually – it’s my job to put the bread in the toaster at lunchtime - so I got off my bike and started walking. Within about five minutes, my knight in shining under-armour-cycling-shorts came back. “What happened to you!?” And I explained. Laur said, “OK, you have got to learn to put the chain back on your bike. This happens regularly.” He flipped my bike over and said, “See here!?” You just pull this up and the chain will loosen and then you just put it back on the sprocket. Watch how I do this.”
What I ended up watching was Laurence TRYING to free my chain using his hands, sticks, stones, and a bike lock - and getting covered in grease and bruises. Me, I was still listening to my podcast. And the podcaster, Bruxy Cavey, was talking about how we should relate to God and to our world-wide community, saying, “Imagine what your marriage would be like if you did everything possible to drive your spouse away…” Can’t imagine what that would be like. (Ahem!)
Time for Plan B. Laur rode his bike back to our apartment and got the van and some extra water. I had managed to knock my water over while I was making all kinds of helpful suggestions about how Laur could fix my bike. Part of me wondered if Laur’d remember to come back. He could eventually learn how to put the bread in the toaster, so wouldn’t need me anymore. Also, there is a strong history of Alzheimer’s in his family, and I’m not an ideal riding partner – but come back he did.
After lunch, Laur went outside to our patio where both bikes were parked, turned my bike over, tapped a screwdriver with a hammer into some magical location on my bike, and tra-da the chain was freed. He slid it back onto the sprocket and drove it around the apartment parking lot – just to be sure. Why didn’t I test it out? Can you imagine if I knocked the chain off my bike within two minutes of Laur repairing it?
You may also be asking why we don’t carry a bike repair kit with us. This incident could have happened 30 km from home! And we do have one but we didn’t bring it on such a hot day because it adds weight to the pack that Laur carries. (Yes, I know. Why don’t I carry it? Shh…)
I said to my hubs, “What happens if next time I get a flat tire?” Laur said, “We’ll call a cab! Or a helicopter. There is no way I’m going to try to repair a flat in the middle of nowhere.”
I chuckled, “I thought you could just wear a spare tire around your neck to balance the back pack.”