Bike on Top

My husband, Paul, loves to go mountain bike riding. He tries to ride 3 times a week: Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. On Sundays, his fellow cycling buddies come to our house, unload their bikes and ride to a nearby state park. Once in the park, they hurtle down and pedal up root studded, narrow trails. I've tried riding those trails on my bike and its just too nerve wracking. I'm going to stick to riding my horse Mac. The guys, however, always have a fine time no matter the weather. They arrive back at our house, two hours later, sweaty and mud splattered, with big grins on their faces.

My husband, Paul (crazy man),
riding down the trails at Fort Ebey State Park.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, it's Paul who travels to the biking destination. A few years back he was returning from just such trip. He was driving our 1985 Toyota Corolla that we had purchased, used, from a retired high school english teacher (who happened to be his mother). Let me just stop and interject here, that Paul and I are not the types to buy a new car every two years. We prefer to buy used vehicles and drive the wheels off of them, hence the 1985 Toyota Corolla.

Anyway, Paul was returning from a bike trip with his bike mounted on top of the Toyota. He drove up our narrow gravel driveway, past the front of the house and pushed the remote control to open the garage door. Then he drove into the garage with....(wait for it)....the bike on top.

He heard a loud, scraping, crunching noise (you know, the kind you never want to hear) and he realized his mistake and immediately stopped. He got out of the car and inspected the damage and really, considering what it could have been, it wasn't too bad. The rack had slid back on the car which saved the bike from sustaining much injury. Aside from some scrapes on the roof of the car and a slightly bent fork on the bike, he got out of it relatively unscathed.

Determined not to repeat this incident, Paul thought of a clever way to stop himself and the car before entering the garage. He put the garage door opener in the trunk. Now every time he came home from riding he'd have to stop and get the opener out of the trunk before raising the garage door. His strategy worked great! He kept it up for a few weeks before he thought, "This is silly, I can get the same results by having the opener in the back seat." And sure enough, he was right, this new plan worked just as well as the old "trunk" method.

But, the funny thing was, the remote did not stay in the back seat. As if it had legs of its own, it migrated to the front seat of the car. Luckily, Paul noticed this as he was returning from a ride late one evening and knew he was in trouble. He was back where he started. "No matter," he thought, "I've got this." Then to remind himself of his predicament, he began to chant in his mind "bike on top." As he turned up our street, he thought "bike on top." And as he drove up our driveway the mental mantra continued, "bike on top." As he rounded the bend and headed towards the garage, our dogs began to bark wildly to welcome him home. "Dang dogs," he thought, "they're going to wake up the whole neighborhood." Then he drove into the garage.

Now he drives a little station wagon and his bike fits neatly into the back of the car.

Side note - after I read this to Paul prior to publication, I heard him mutter under his breath "lousy story."

ELDER GENTLEMAN
7x5 inches, oil on linen canvas, 2015
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My husband and I drive past this barn whenever we travel the backroad to Anacortes, Washington. Its a beautiful old structure that is sadly being reclaimed by mother nature. Someday, probably after one of our strong wind storms, it will lean down and melt back into the earth.