Bike, Hike or Bust As We Stroll Down My Memory Lane of Misadventures

One of my favorite parts of our daily routine is going for family bike rides. However as Hadley struggled up the hill to our house last week, I noticed her bike is so small that her knees were practically in her chest (no small feat for a girl who inherited her father’s lack of flexibility).

I resolved to get her a new bike but there was a problem: We didn’t have the money and so I started surveying our house to see what I could sell. We got rid of most of our baby items but for sentimental reasons I have been holding onto two of them: Our beloved REI Baby Carrier Backpack and our Double Chariot Jogger/Bike Trailer, the Rolls-Royce of strollers.

These two items were our vehicles for adventure during my kids’ formative years and I have been strolling down memory lane as I part with them. There were the hundreds of hikes I did with both kids in the backpack.

Our marathon ride to Breckenridge with the Chariot bike trailer that almost did us in.

My crazy idea to snow hike with the kids in the Chariot at Chautauqua.
My Dumb-and-dumber attempt to haul both kids all the way to Golden.

Or the near-nervous breakdown it caused in Canada.

I sold the Chariot for $300 and in addition to purchasing some household items, I was thrilled to buy Hadley a kick-butt Specialized mountain bike with shocks yesterday. I’d like to say she effortlessly adjusted to her new bike but remember It’s Like Learning How to Not Kill Your Child As She Learns to Ride a Bike that detailed the travails of teaching her?

This was that bad and worse as she freaked out about being unable to reach the ground.

In retrospect, we should have lowered the seat.

As she lamented about her tough life, we were privy to a rather disturbing glimpse at Jamie’s.

“You know what I rode for TWO YEARS AFTER MY BIKE WAS STOLEN? THE CACTUS FLOWER!” he bellowed. “Yes, that’s right. We were so poor I had to ride my sister’s yellow bike with a white basket and daisies emblazed across it as my buddies rode $500 Redlines.”

We all have our moments of childhood trauma and judging from this list of misadventures, my kiddos will have a good share of their own.

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