Watch out Lance Armstrong…

Well Lindsey has spoken and it looks like my first challenge will be a 25 mile bike ride completed by the first week in November. GULP. Thank you Bob W for your suggestion, your shirt is on it’s way! I want to thank everyone for submitting suggestions, we received quite a few and are going to use some of them during the colder months, but we thought the bike riding one would be a good chance to squeeze in the last bit of being outside before winter arrives. (I do realize I have probably jinxed this whole area and we will be getting a blizzard warning next week!) We thought it might be nice to invite folks to ride with us!  I will be announcing the date for the ride soon, and anyone who wants to come join us at Loveland Bike Trail is welcome for all or part of the ride. If you are not available to ride but want to donate to Recycled Doggies per mile, you know that is always welcome!


I was thinking about my first bike, the one after I learned how to ride when my Dad took the training wheels off my beginner bike for the last time after playing the on/off game for months before he finally had stripped the screws to the point of no return. It was only then, with no choice left that I found my balance and pushed myself forward riding on with sheer glee before running into the neighbors shrubs.

I got the hang of it and before long it was time for a new ride. I can still remember the smell of the fake leather seat and how stunning the pepto bismol pink bike looked as I proudly rode my Huffy Sweet Thunder around the neighborhood.



Not my actual bike, but exactly like the one I rode.


It is a wonder my parents survived that period of parenting. My body is riddled with scars from shins to elbows that hold the memories of failed ramp jumps inspired by Evel Knievel, bike chases just like we saw on CHiPs, only Erik Estrada never had to deal with the garbage cans in Mrs. Schwartz front yard and anything you can think of we should not have been doing on those bikes we rode to the alley and did them….twice just for good measure.  I should mention that I grew up on a block filled with all boys, so this was my world… bikes, Star Wars, Lego’s, and daring each other to do different shenanigans at the drop of a pixie stix!

I loved that bike and I rode till it had seen better days, faded pink seat, split with foam coming out from the gray duct tape surgery my dad attempted to perform. He was a brilliant artist so for fun he would  personalized my bike so  that the frame of the bar proudly displayed my name in cool writing and funky colors to compliment the pepto bismol pink. (I do realize that seems impossible.) Eventually the paint chipped away and I grew tired of having a bike that was so girly looking when all the boys had moved on to bigger and faster models. It is that bike that I will always associate with my Dad and all the memories will follow me as I race down the road working hard to hit the goal of 25 miles this month.









  1. Lindsey says:

    AHHHH YES! enjoy the FREEDOM of biking. It is so awesome. Would love to hit the trail with you anytime. Also I HIGHLY recommend investing in the super cool padded biker shorts.

  2. Moody says:

    Oh those memories of daredevil stunts on your bike.
    I’m counting my blessings: my son is FAR from being as heroic as I used to be. The number of tumbles I took are high and I well *never* forget that one, almost fatal bike ride I took at a friend’s. I rode the “spare” bike and we were on a pretty steep downhill stretch of road that intersected with a busy street at the bottom. We were riding it hard, with me coming up behind her (thankfully), but when it was time to start braking, I quickly realized my brakes were nowhere near good enough to bring me to a stop before the T-crossing.
    I called out to her “my brakes aren’t working” and she slid her bike sideways, throwing it down in front of me while grabbing for my arm as I slammed into it.
    I still can’t remember exactly *how* we did it, but we both survived and *walked* the bikes home again, pounding hearts and sweaty hands to go along. I have never ridden a “spare” bike since.
    Everything else that went wrong, happened with my own bike and because of my own daredevil, death-defying attitude.
    Good luck on the 25 miles!! I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines.

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