Test Drive

Oakley is sleeping upstairs as I write this. He is sick with a bad case of swimmer’s ear. In our life together this is relatively unheard of. This kid’s fire rages so hot that germs seems to get burned to death on contact. This time I actually think we wore him out. It is a parenting technique of mine to keep him so exhausted that he doesn’t have time to get into trouble. Besides, he doesn’t know how to not be busy. He is on a swim team and the indoor track team; he snowboards every Wednesday and cross-country skis whenever I make him. He takes drumming lessons and is in a Queen ensemble group that practices weekly at the Mid-Coast School of Music. It is a great outlet that lets him thrash away while remaining in control. The hope is that it is giving him a rhythm to help organize his scattered self. On days that he doesn’t have a scheduled activity he begs to go to Urban Air, the indoor trampoline park. He doesn’t have an off switch. In fact, this morning he had a fever of 101 degrees and was exclaiming that he could still go to school. I told him he had to stay home and now he is passed out.

That being said, yesterday was the day we finally got to sit upon our bikes. They are terrific. Ainsley at the Gear Hub in Portland has outdone herself. She found us recycled frames and selected components for the bikes that will be able to withstand heavy use and not break our bank. Plus, all the components of the bikes, from the brakes to the shifters to the spokes, all match each other, so we will only have to haul one repair kit and one set of replacement parts with us on our trek.

I was excited and instantly felt a bond to my bike. It has a purple Specialized frame, a drop-down handlebar for lots of different riding positions, and a head set that turns like whipped-cream frosting. The tires are Kevlar to help prevent flats, with double-walled wheels to help bear the weight load. Perfect.

Oakley, on the other hand was unimpressed. I am not sure he truly appreciated the value of a recycled bike and would probably prefer a brand-spanking-new bicycle with all the shiny accoutrements that come with a pricey designer bike. He is 15, after all. What 15-year-old appreciates used stuff? Ainsley enthusiatically asked him what he thought of his bike. “I like it,” Oakley said, unconvinclingly, as he looked around vacantly with rheumy eyes. If you loook at the “bikmum” Instagram account (this is not a misspelling: “bikemum” was already taken on Instagram), you will see that he was busying himself making slow-motion videos of himself, flapping his lips like a rubber duck, that really sum up how he felt.

As we went over the details of the bikes and what still needed to be done, Ainsley mentioned that we might wear out our chains while we are training for this trip and need to replace them. That was when Oakley roused himself and looked at me with horror. I could read his mind. He has no intention of training. Training is boring. The idea of us riding in circles around South Portland when he could be running around with his buddies like a wild child is truly cringe-worthy to him. He intends to just go for it, hop on a plane, hop on his bike and begin that chapter of his life. The adventure appeals to him, not the biking. Not at all. “Are you ready for this?” asked Ainsley excitedly. “Yeah, I guess,” he responded. I wanted him to catch the bike fever, but it wasn’t happening.

Maybe it was just the swimmer’s ear fever he was catching instead.