I swear, sometimes my wife thinks I’m twelve, but only when she’s being generous. Most times she thinks I’m nine, okay leave me alone, she thinks I’m six, there I admit it, I hope you’re happy. Most people know I’ve been quitting smoking for thirty days, today. I’m nowhere near as proud of myself as others seem to be, in fact I’d love to have a smoke with you and discuss it.
Still I’ve been walking and now riding a bike many times a day to burn off all the excessive energy that smoking took care of for so long. Since acquiring the bike last week, I’ve heard about one hundred and fifty times that I need a helmet. The worst part of this, for some reason the Spanish word for helmet is something very close to casket.
Bebe, (Baby to the rest of us) you need a casco, pronounced (casket).”
“No sweetheart you mean a helmet.”
“Yes Bebe a helmet, you need a helmet.”
“No way Baby, I’ve been riding bikes since I started walking, I don’t need a helmet.”
“Please Bebe.”
“No way Baby, I don’t mind looking like a girl, I just don’t want to look like the ugliest girl you’ve ever seen.”
Blinking her eyes innocently was her last plea.
“I’m not buying a helmet and that’s my last word on it, now let’s just go for a ride.”
When I was younger and would say something this stupid, I would whisper. Like I thought God couldn’t hear if I said it quietly. Now that I’m older it might be worse. I am still painfully aware that God likes to do things to me to make me eat my words, but now I state my words loud and proud for he and the whole world to hear.
After having a bicycle for a week or two, let me tell you a lesson I’ve learned. Wait you need a little more information first, that sentence should be the last one.
I’ve been running all over the area nearest my home acting like a fifty-one year old, fifteen year old. I’ve been jumping curbs, riding in and out of deep ditches, jumping crazy things, weaving in and out of traffic and flying down steep roads. I’ve attained speeds that make the front tire shimmy and shake.
All the while I’ve been riding ten times a day with no concern for my body and the knees that love it. I’ve been getting more tired and sore as it goes, but hey no cigarettes.
Saturday morning as I was leaving to take my first ride, I jumped on the bike, stood up on it and paddled to beat the band. I approached the curb on the other side of our parking lot, a curb I’ll jump and then shooting through a small piece of woods I’ll drop down a bank and jump out into the parking lot of a strip mall. I told you adventurous for a fifty-one year old.
I pushed hard on the pedal, jerked up on the handlebars, but had made a few miscalculations. The bike came up, but gravity is not a friend of mine and it came back down exactly on the edge of the curb. I am no physicist so cannot explain how it happened, but I flipped over the handlebars and was catapulted through the woods to the bank on the other side and tumbled out into the parking lot, followed closely by the cycle.
By Followed closely I mean it landed on top of me, good, at least I broke its fall, wouldn’t want to hurt the cycle. I wish I hadn’t been moving so fast, I wish I understood how I was thrown so far. I wish God wouldn’t try so hard to teach me stuff, I know a bunch of stuff already.
It’s funny how your mind works. The entire time, what seemed like two hours, I was flying though the air, I heard My Wife say, “Bebe you need a Casket.”
I then heard myself say, “No I don’t.” This went on until God was sure I got the message. After riding a bicycle for a week or two let me tell you a lesson I’ve learned, see I told ya I’d get back to this. I’ve learned that a bicycle will kill a fifty-one year old if he has no sense. It only took a broken toe to learn that one. It took fifteen minutes to figure out what was wrong with me; I should have been hurt much worse. The next time your wife tells you, you need a casket, please don’t make her mad or temp God, just shut up and buy one.
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