Since my bike helmet was flat in the driveway, the first stop in our five-hour journey was five minutes away, at my local bike shop. There are many things to love about a good local bike shop, the first of which is that they’re local.
Other things to love include a good stock of supplies from small items like energy drink powder and socks to new bikes and…well…helmets. I wasn’t surprised to find one in my size, although I wasn’t entirely pleased that it was green and white. The Pilot pointed out that it was cool because nobody else would be wearing a green helmet.
Yeah, and yellow is the new khaki.
But nice of him to try. He also pointed out that it would match the Mardi Gras decorations I put on my helmet as a part of Team PHAT Tuesday. I’m not sure it’s a sign of high fashion that my helmet matches green, purple and gold felt harlequin masks, but it’s not there to make me look good; it’s there to keep me safe. Although I never really got it fitting right, the new lid was much more comfortable than my old one, and I didn’t hurt my head on the ride. OK, mostly because I didn’t bump it, but still, just for comfort, it’s an improvement.
Bike shops are our toy stores, and we were like five-year-olds with credit cards in FAO Schwartz, but we did finally manage to make it to our extraction point with minimal financial collateral damage. We pitched everything in the back of the truck with the bikes and hit the road.
There was nothing to do but drive and talk. We have a little practice with the latter, spending hours riding bikes together. As we drove, we talked about all manner of topics, but the further we went, the more we focused on one topic, which would be the talk of the town when we arrived…and all weekend, really.