Trust your bike.

Several years ago I enticed my daughter to go to Outward-bound, so she could experience her own resilience and leadership qualities (it was successful). However, to get her there I had to bribe her, which was done by letting her take the Car and bike rack to Portland, Maine, and promising to ride my Bicycle from Bucks County to Portland. As it happened, this trip coincided with my son’s summer stay with me, so I thought what a cool trip to share with my 18-year-old.

Of course, all the nay-sayers burst out of the woodwork – are you fit enough (we’ll get fit along the way), it’s dangerous (so is life) You cannot ride on Motorways (don’t intend to), it’s very hilly (not along the coast it isn’t). etc.

The day of departure came, and as we rode out the driveway my son started being apprehensive! What if…(I have packed extra tubes and tools, we had money and were pretty much in civilization all the way, overnighting with friends in Alpine, N.J., and hotels along the way.) Not a mile out of the driveway he had a puncture! OK, no big deal, fixed that, and on we went. Bucks & Hunterdon County are beautiful parts of the USA. As we approached Summit, he had another puncture, same procedure, all good.

We spent the night with my friends, had a fun BBQ, and drank a little too much wine, oh well! The next day we set off across the George Washington Bridge (spectacular) and wove up to 208th street to get off Manhatten and over to the Old Post Hwy. My son had the Postal Uniform on, as it was the heyday of that team and we were riding at the time of the Tour de France. I was leading out as we passed the Bronx Zoo when a guy pulled up next to me and said “Hey is Lance Armstrong with you?” Without hesitation, I whipped around to see my son sitting on the curb. Somehow, a strap had jammed into his spokes and stopped him. No accident or injury but certainly a hold-your-breath moment of a father. However, this was now the third incident on the trip in 2 days with his bike and I felt an intervention was necessary.

I sat next to him, our bike resting on a tree behind us. Son, I ask you to listen to me, I started. 2 days 3 breakdowns for you. 0 for me. I may not be right but let’s try this. Say after me: I TRUST MY BIKE. He looked at me askew, to which I uttered Say it. He murmured something akin to the words. NO NO NO I said. When you say it mean it: I