Coasting

GRIN # 52

I decided to get back on the bike this weekend. Not Jerry-style, mind you.

Just a regular cruise through the woods on the Tobacco Trail, this nifty nature trail about three miles from my house.

Jerry and I have tried to ride bikes together before, back when “togetherness” was a common marital goal.

I like to stop pedaling sometimes and coast, spinning the pedals backward while I look at all the trees.

Interrupting my reverie, Jerry would invariably yell, “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you pedaling?” when I started to lag behind.

“I’m looking!” I would yell.

“For what?”

“At the scenery!”

“If you’re not pedaling, you’re not riding!”

Then he would double back and ride up behind me and imitate me pedaling and coasting, making up his own sound for the pedals not moving. “Pedal, pedal, whissh…Pedal, pedal whissh.” I know. I think I would have been acquitted, too.

“GO AHEAD WITHOUT ME!!” (“You ass!” I refrained from adding).

And that’s how we stopped riding together for exercise. He still rides with me and T, but only after he’s gotten in a “real” ride.

The indignity.

Sometimes, when I’m in an evil mood, I sidle up next to him and say sweetly, “Do you miss me when you ride? Wouldn’t it be great to have something we do together?”

Once I see the fear in his eyes, I cackle and say “As if!” and all is right in the world again.