Often on Saturday mornings as a kid, I heard the bike pump heaving asthmatic sighs into the knobby tires. My mom knelt by the rear tire of her bike to secure the tube cap before packing the pump in the car. Three bikes waited patiently for their riders in the driveway before breakfast: we were going for a bike ride today. As I got my cereal, my sister and I hoped we were going to the trail with the ford, so we could ride our bikes through the river, back and forth, splashing the kids trying to fish.
Now, I’m the one kneeling near the bikes, screwing the caps back on the tires, and packing the pump before finishing coffee with my mom, discussing what we will see today from our bikes.
We loaded the hybrids to the back of my car and set off for Valley Forge to ride the hills and visit historic houses and forts along the way. It was a slow ride through the blowing leaves on a spring-like day in November, but all rides are good rides. Especially ones with my mom.