SmAlLwOrLd

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Since the weather was lovely here today, it was a day to, as one of my friends defines it, BWB (Bike with Bill). As usual, our plan to ride started out with a text message from Bill asking “Ride today?” I responded in the affirmative, and then I was asked, “Tights?”

I wrote back saying I would be wearing tights. I then received a text message implying that I was a wimp. I’m a wimp when it comes to seeing my own blood, being cold, and changing my own bike tire.

But, I didn’t take the Percocet after either of my two c-sections. So, I still think I’m a pretty tough “broad!” Don’t let the pink and the Hello Kitty fool you!

I met Bill in the rail trail parking lot, and we headed down the trail. When you spend a significant amount of time with someone, I think you can almost sense what they might say in certain situation. When we were nearing an intersection of the trail and a road, Bill asked, “Want to take the road?” I thought, “Wow, I so knew he was going to ask that!” But then again, I guess that not ESP; it’s just friendship.

As Bill and I rode along the roads, we talked about life as we usually do. Today, we talked about our fellow quirky riders, the weather, a job that Bill thought I should apply for with the Pan-Mass Challenge, and then we talked about my blog. I said, “I have no idea what I’m going to write about today.”

Someone once asked me when I know exactly what I’ll write about. I basically said, “It just happens.” Sometimes I have an idea based on something that happened the day before, but most of the time, I’m like Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams; I’ve built the blog, and I’m waiting for the idea to come!

At one point today, we were riding up a steep hill in Pepperell. I disliked this hill immensely, but it always brought us by a lovely old home that was being restored. As I biked by and saw how lovingly and painstakingly (there’s always pain involved in old homes!) the owners were restoring it, the house gave me that extra motivation to “work my glutes” (Bill’s fight phrase when we go up any hill) and get to the top of the hill.

As I was working my glutes and 2% of me was wishing I was on the couch watching Law & Order, I heard a loud BANG! It was so pronounced that I thought it was a gun shot. I said, “Oh, jeez! There’s a perp in the wooded area to our left. We’re going to be bike jacked!”

As quickly as I turned the TV on, I turned it off. I looked down and saw Bill’s back tire looking as flat as a pancake. We had just rode over a good deal of gravel, and I then knew the “perp” was probably a sharp stone.

We got off our bikes, and wheeled them over to the side of the road, which happened to be right in front of the old home that I loved. Unlike me, Bill is great about changing his own tire. He glanced down at his back tire, and then he pointed to a one inch slash and said, “I think this is it.”

I said, “Wow. That’s the biggest slash I’ve ever seen in a tire.” Bill said, “Me, too!” He flipped his bike over onto its seat and began to take out his tools.

I plunked myself down on the ground next to my bike. I was hungry, so I wolfed down a Luna Bar while I watched Bill begin the tire changing process. He was hesitant about getting the tire changed due to the gash, but he told me that a one dollar bill stuffed into the tire might let him make it home. (By the way, if you don’t have a one dollar bill, you can substitute with a business card like Bill did.)

Meanwhile, I took out my paper and pen and started to work on a cover letter for the job Bill thought I should apply for. Bill got the new tube in, he put in his business card, and then he told me, as he had told me one flat before, how he hated blowing up his tire with the cartridge, because couldn’t control how the air flowed in.

BANG! His tube blew again. The slash in his tire would not be tamed by his business card. At that point, we both knew we were somewhat stuck.

I said, “I can bike home, get the car, and come back to pick you up.” Bill said, “No. Let me think.” We pondered different ideas like calling fellow cyclists who we knew would be out to see if they could bring a new tire by.

About a minute later, we heard a voice say, “Do you need some help?” It was obvious that she had walked down the driveway from the lovely old house. She then said, “My husband’s a biker.”

Bill explained the situation. She walked closer to us. Then she saw Bill’s PMC jacket and said, “Oh, PMC! I’m a 17 year volunteer; I’m pizza! My husband was a rider, but he hasn’t been able to raise enough money recently to ride.”

Bill then told her how long he had been doing the PMC. She then pondered if her husband had any bike tires and said, “I don’t think he does, but I may be able to give you a bike.” I then said out loud, “Jeez, It’s a small world, and I just love that it is!”

She then added that she thought she heard gunshots. Bill told her I thought that’s what it was at first. She went on to tell us that behind her were several hundred acres of land, so she was used to hearing gun shots. Then she added, “Well, the Chief of Police lives right over there, so I wondered.” I think she remained in her home for a bit, and I don’t blame her, but when she saw us, she knew, like me, it was not a Lenny Briscoe event!

Anyway, here we were stuck by the side of the road next to a house I loved, and because of the PMC, this woman knew Bill like he was her brother. It was really incredible. As she walked off to her barn to see about a tire or a bike, Bill looked at me and said, “Jean, do you have a story now?” I had to laugh; that’s friendship.

Bill and I walked up the driveway. He said, “It’s most likely I will make a new friend and be thankful this happened.” I had to agree that a bad thing can become a very good thing.

As we made our way up the driveway, she came out walking a mountain bike. She said, “Here. This is the best I can do. It was my brother’s. And I lost him 13 years ago to cancer.” I wanted to hug her; I knew what that was like. Bill gratefully accept the bike, adjusted the seat stem, and we were off once again.

As we rode off, I was mesmerized by what a small world it was, the kindness of strangers, and the whole six degrees of separation concept. Who hasn’t been touched by cancer? It took so much away from many of us, but it gave us friends, especially today, in a place where we never expected it to.

We headed up the hill. Bill had to stop to adjust the seat a few times. That bike gave Bill a run for his knees, too, as we had to stop and rest a few times.

As we biked back, Bill struggled with the mountian bike. I said, “Hey, I would have biked home, gotten the car, and come back to get you.” He knew I could have done that, but he didn’t want me biking back by myself, and then he said, “Maybe that’s my Saving Private Ryan attitude!”

I admired Bill. There was no way a car would bring him home. He and I would bike home together no matter what. By then, it seemed that it was more than leaving anyone behind; most importantly, it was about completing a mission together.

We rode along the trail slowly. Bill asked, “How fast are we going?” I told him that we were going 12 miles per hour.

He told me I could ride ahead if I wanted to. I couldn’t. One great thing I learned from Bill was that you can never leave anyone behind. Never.

I could tell that this mountain bike was giving Bill a hard time, as he referred to it as a “boneshaker.” His knees were killing him, yet he pressed on. And when we were about to pass the part of the rail trail that intersected with the bridge, he said, “Given the circumstances, Jean, let’s not go visit the bridge.”

I laughed out loud. I said, “Okay, you had me fooled. I wasn’t sure which way you’d go here!” And, we biked on.

Most people aren’t fortunate enough to have the freedom that I currently do. Today, I had an adventure; I experienced it’s a small world, the kindness of strangers, and camaraderie all in under three hours. I love my life, well, I especially did today. ♥