The past week has been challenging to my biking commitment, but I ended up doing pretty well. I felt like I was starting over, not for myself but to make good and sure that the new battery was really going to solve the power failure problem. On longer and longer rides, still not straying further from home than I wanted to power my own way back, it worked totally dependably.
So today I decided I could go further without being worried about getting stuck without power. I needed to get out of the house, I wanted to bike, and I needed groceries - so I decided to combine these by biking to the store.
I needed a gallon and a half of milk (some drink whole milk around here and some drink 2%), and the problem is that the wonderful carriers I have for my old bike don't work on the new bike. I settled for my backpack and headed out.
The store is about a mile and a half away, and it was downhill most of the way there. I took a back route, but it was still more "in traffic" than I really enjoy. I can't say I'm a fan of that part. I prefer my bike experiences to be quieter, and I really want my rear view mirror. My experiences in traffic have been in a car for most of the last few decades, and my habit of checking mirrors often is pretty ingrained. I have a bike mirror, but it's on my old bike.
I got to the store and realized that I didn't have a bike lock! Yet another thing that is on my old bike! I'm seeing a pattern here. As with the very first ride, I'd much rather just get on and go. I don't seem to have much patience for the "maintenance" part of biking, apparently even something as simple as grabbing my bike lock and making sure it's with the new bike. I think this may be a character flaw. Dang. Luckily, I asked at the service desk, and the folks at Whole Foods were very accommodating and allowed me to park the bike inside the first set of doors. I hurried and got my milk, grabbed two cans of cat food, and was ready to head home.
You know how you can sometimes understand something in theory, but you get a whole new understanding when you actually see it or experience it? Well, that's what happened to me next. The bike has a red button that "unlocks" the throttle. You can't actually engage the throttle until you turn the key in the battery AND push the red button. I described this in an earlier blog as looking like the red button in the movies that you're never supposed to push. It's a safety feature, so you can't accidentally turn the throttle as you are getting on the bike. Just imagine the bike taking off without you! Worse, you could be in an awkward position and get dumped on the ground. Luckily I was spared either of those, but I was quite startled, and have a new understanding and respect for this safety feature.
I was standing there, by my bike, with a backpack full of twelve pounds of milk. I was embarrassed to see that I had not only failed to bring a lock, I had failed to turn off the battery and take the key with me while I shopped. I was chagrined to find I had been such a dork, but I didn't think more of it. I grabbed the handle bars to pull the bike away from the food display and racks of vegetable seeds - and I accidentally turned the throttle. Yikes! Suddenly I had a two-wheeled bronco in my hands! I quickly wrangled it toward me and let the throttle loose - and we only bumped the seed racks a little bit - but it was more than a little startling. I just noticed I said "we" - the bike seems to become a separate entity when it develops a mind of its own!
I am pleased to say that the ride home was uneventful, even skirting around the city tree-trimmers who were felling whole trees into Segoe. I am proud to say I pedaled almost the whole way, even though it was uphill and I had a backpack. My bronco behaved quite well.
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