Running out of excuses

As a boy I rode my bicycle all over the neighborhood. This was before the days of clever bike acrobatics that one sees nowadays. Just flying like the wind, never having to think consciously of balance because the bike and I were one.

In my late twenties I did a lot of bicycling again around West Hollywood and environs.

Before leaving California I acquired a bicycle but barely rode it. In the move it was rather put out of joint, so to speak. So it has languished in the garage, waiting for some refurbishing.

Mimi and Jane and others will testify that I am a big bear. So I have a big bike. The very first disappointment when I bought it was that it does not fit in the back seat of my car, even with the front wheel removed. No small thing to get it to a repair shop then.

My BFF has a pickup, however, and took my bike to Stevie's Happy Bikes (yes, that's the real name) and got it all spiffed up. I still did not have a bike rack. Today I drove to Stevie's in Corrales and obtained a bike rack, stopped at BFF's and picked up the bicycle, and brought it home.

There he is: Jibril Mazashunk, ready to be ridden.

Jibril is one of the Arabic variants of Gabriel. My bicycle is named for the archangel. I no longer remember why unless it is because my car is named Rafael for another archangel. Mazashunk is a Lakota word for bicycle (iron dog). [You really did not expect my naming conventions to be uncomplicated, did you?]

One excuse for putting off the repairs was that I could only ride two blocks before facing hills that, gears notwithstanding, I am in no shape for. But now that 98th Street has been paved on the little stretch between open fields, I can theoretically go for many miles with nothing more than mild inclines.

Still, today was hot and very windy and I stayed inside. But I am running out of excuses.

Time to do something truly nice for my body and spirits.

--the BB