Chilly Ride

My commuting might be over for the season, but I ain't given up riding. Met my wife and kids for lunch. My son suited up and rode home with me.

Sitting on the bike, the two of us, in the McDonald's parking lot, I noticed that the rear suspension was bottoming out on the frame. Everybody off the bike. Check the rear suspension air pressure. It's way low. This proves a slow leak -- I pumped it up a month ago. Or is it just that the air shrinks in cold weather?

Pumped it way up, felt a lot better.

My wife: "Does he need a balaklava to keep his neck warm?"

Me: "I don't know, he's got a winter coat on with good protection around his throat."

Decision: "If you get cold, you tap your dad on the shoulder and tell him. He'll stop and he can put the balaklava on you."

My son: "What's a balaklava?"

Smile. And demonstration.

Okay, back on the bike, pull out of the parking lot, to the first stop light.

"Daaaaaaad, I'm cooooooooold."

"Okay, I'll pull over first chance I get."

Pull into the Walmart parking lot, park, get off the bike, off with my gloves, off with his helmet, on with my wife's balaklava, back on with his helmet, back on with my gloves, back onto the bike.

And on down the road. Pulling hard left through an intersection, scraped the two of my left boot as I dug down to grab second gear. Can't upshift in a hard left turn on this bike.

"How are you doing?" I ask at the next stop light.

"Fine. My ankles are the only thing that's cold," said my son.

I look. Tennis shoes and cotton socks. The socks are the only clothing on his entire body that's not double-layered. He has sweats on over his jeans. Long sleeve shirt and two coats. The ankles hang out in the open in the breeze.