Bicycle fanatic, blogger, wife of a Flatland master, dedicated to promoting the sport of cycling to other women, and trying to maintain a balanced state of mind at all times.
We took the tandem out for a test ride tonight. In order to fit it into the car, the front wheel has to be taken off, and I have to ride in the backseat. It’s so freakin’ BIG! We drove over to Dunham golf course where there is a paved bike path.
First, we practiced turns in the parking lot. I have all the control up front, brakes and gears. Dominic got good at yelling for me to do stuff.
“SHIFT DOWN!”
“RIGHT PEDAL DOWN! LEAN LEFT!”
“LEAN RIGHT, LEFT PEDAL DOWN!”
Once we got used to it, we were laughing our fucking asses off.
We took off on the bike path, him telling me when to coast, and when to hit the brakes. I let him do all the work when we hit a hill. I could hear him huffing and puffing directly behind me, and then I knew I had to put in some work. Then we went back to the parking lot and practiced figure 8’s, just getting a groove for riding together.
IT WAS AWESOME!
When we got back to the house, all the kids on the street were out and so we took it for a spin up the street a few times. The kid’s took our picture.
Honestly, I think it’s the coolest bike Dominic has ever built and I am so excited to get this thing out on the road.
I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.”
― Bruce Lee
Buckling
When I am under a bunch of stress, I buckle. I straight can’t handle it. Nothing in life goes smooth, I know, bumps in the road all the time.
* Husband sick and needy for 3 days. I always go for the worst case scenario.
* Dogs not exercised creates chaos in the house.
* Earlier start to work means 3xs the traffic on the road.
* HOT weather making the drivers 10xs more aggro which leads to them screaming at me on my bike, and me screaming back a slew of obscenities.
* AC man tells me my 7 year old unit needs replaced due to dog piss.
* Begging for a 2nd opinion from someone in recovery who is not out to get my money.
* Realizing Vegas is probably out of the picture.
* Kicking myself in the ass for not sticking it out at the corporate cock sucking job last year.
I am just going to go to sleep now.
Finally got some time on my MTB today. I had to drive an hour to get it done, but fuck it. It is what it is. Mohican is 4 weeks out, and I can’t wait till it’s over so I can forget racing and just ride my bikes. This training shit is for the birds. I am over it.
a slip
he takes the drink. the alcohol poisoning his bloodstream immediately.
erratic thoughts.
he turns into the incredible hulk. someone i do not know. he’s angry. he breaks things.
smashes a car window in with one fist.
glass in my hair, my sweatshirt, my shoes. i drive away. i end up in front of my friend’s house, glass everywhere. another friend comes over. they clean up the mess and cover the car window with a turquoise sun visor for windshields.
i ignore the warnings and go home. he’s passed out on the bathroom floor. i drag him to bed.
he awakes, thirsty. he doesn’t remember. 48 hours are spent recovering.
phase one: his liver rejects the poison. he can’t eat.
phase two: remorse sets in.
phase three: pretend nothing ever happened.
repeat - every 3-4 months.
