Shuttling rolls out biking memories

Biking mania has hit our house and I have been transformed into a shuttle to local mountain biking trails.

Biking mania has hit our house.

My husband has resumed riding his bike to and from work. Our sons and their friends have transformed me into a shuttle to local mountain biking trails.

If I could burn calories for every drive up to Fox Mountain or Esler I’d be a lot trimmer.

When I lamented this recently to an RCMP officer during a road block on Hodgson Road he suggested I run on the spot while waiting for my bikers to return.

He’d seen me going through with the bikers to drop them off at Snakes and Ladders.

I have yet to get on my bike this season.

I need a new one, but that will have to wait for my income tax return.

In the meantime, it’s made me think about the wonderful invention we call the bicycle.

I was a late bloomer when it came to bike riding.

I’m not sure why, but I was eight when dad taught me how to ride.

He’d run along beside me as I pedalled my big old red one-speed.

When dad felt I was ready, he’d let me go and I’d wobble along, until I was balancing on my own.

As soon as I was a capable rider, the world became my oyster.

Our family never owned a car while I was growing up, and because pedalling was faster than walking, I now had independent access to a larger world.

My friends and I biked everywhere.

Once in Grade 9 we biked to Harrop — about 30 kilometres — to spend the weekend at one of our classmates’s homes.

Another time I biked 23 kilometres with my brother to camp at Kokanee Provincial Park.

My prowess as a cyclist wasn’t always the brightest.

On two separate occasions I chipped my two front teeth.

The first time attempting to do acrobatics when my foot got caught in the spokes. The second time turning around too quickly while I was showing off in front of the neighbourhood boys.

I’ve seen so many people out on bikes in the last few weeks and it makes me smile.

Cycling is a reminder of how far we can go by simply putting one foot in front of the other, even though there can be bumps and scrapes along the way.

Monica Lamb-Yorski is a staff writer with the Williams Lake Tribune/Weekend Advisor.