The Mosey Ride™ season began today. Version 4.0. We started doing these when we returned to the river valley. Maybe the weather and the plague thing are combining to nudge us. We hit the driveway at noon, turned left, and began pedaling.
These Mosey Rides™ aren’t about riding as much as they are about being. Being on bicycles. TLD™ (my wife, The Lovely Deb) on her trusty 44 built D.E.B.™ (Do Everything Bike), and me on my new road unit, the one I’ve been rearranging most of April. Almost there.
There are no rules for TMR (I’ll spare you the spelled out words and service mark.) But if your heartbeat exceeds your weight, OR if you perspire, OR if your thought bubble contains terms like cadence or tire width or I’m in the wrong gear, it’s against the rules.
We rode to Essex where the first turn is into the marina. Deb and I are always ready to say that we’re there to see the commodore if anyone points to the Members Only sign. Learning to blend is key for a successful mosey ride. We don’t belong to the Essex Yacht Club.
From there we went to the end of Main where our snails pace slowed to a halt as someone in a motor vehicle (an Escalade) tried to negotiate the traffic circle with one hand on the wheel while the other holds an iPhone streaming a How To Drive YouTube.
We were out for two solid hours. Maybe 16 miles. But who really cares? Note: that was a rhetorical question. Deb and I love these times. We look around. And at each other. Giggle. And these moments together become ours. And rather than ride, we can just be.
All This By Hand