Resurrecting granny

I have an old school three-speed bike that I bought used years ago from our bike repair man. I call it my granny bike.  It's perfect for me: tall with 27-inch tires, sturdy but not clunky, and comfortable with a nice wide seat for my nice wide seat.

I've done a lot of errands with my granny bike. I have a bag with Velcro strapped onto the handle bars. It holds my wallet, cell phone, water bottle, and even the occasional carton of eggs. When I'm riding around town, I've been told I look very much like Miss Gulch on the Wizard of Oz riding away with Toto.

Photo courtesy of http://www.freeimagespot.com/

But in the last few years I've pushed granny bike beyond the limits of town. I've ridden her on the bike trail that runs through the rural countryside on what used to be an old railroad track. There's various wildlife along the way. On more than one occasion I've gotten attacked by dive-bombing red-tailed black birds that nest in ditches along the trail. And once I veered off the path into the ditch trying to avoid a badger.

I've also taken granny down the Elba bluff to Whitewater State Park. The first time I attempted the bluff run, I got passed by men on race bikes with numbers pinned to their chests. I tried to ignore the snickers as I labored back up the hill on my granny three-speed in the middle of a men's bicycle race. To my credit, I didn't once get off and walk.

Granny and I've had a few accidents.  I admit one time it was because I was checking a text. (I know. I heard about it from my kids when I got home.) 

Our last crash was when I took our dog, Ozzie, on a ride with me holding onto his leash. This was a very bad idea. Ozzie ran in front of the bike, I braked hard and and sailed over the handle bars, planting my face into the pavement. I broke a piece off my cheek bone, and Granny has never quite been the same, not quite as perky. But then neither am I.

I now have a newer bike, a fancier one with 18 gears. I am thinking about doing a duathlon with it this year.

But Granny is still my favorite bike. She's like a dear old friend. I still take her out to ride across town for old time's sake. After all we've been through, I'd feel like a traitor putting her down. 

Update, July 17, 2022. Well, I am finally going to say goodbye to dear old granny. I haven't ridden bike for a couple of summers now. Both bikes had flat tires, and it was easier just to walk. Landon resurrected the 18-gear bike, so it's his now. I found a smooth-sailing men's 10-speed, circa the 1980s like Granny. It was a good price and has brand new tires, reason enough to get it. Dave said there isn't room in our garage for another bike, so it is Granny that has to go. I feel kind of nostaligic, sad even. That bike got me through my mid-life crisis and helped me lose 40 pounds (10 years later I've gained half back, but I'm okay with that. I'm a granny myself now, and my grandkids happen to like the extra cushioning). Maybe my old men's bike will get me through old age. Or until I have to purchase a trike. Whatever comes first. 

Bill and Shirley at this season


Tomorrow I take Mom to the hospital for knee replacement surgery.  A little risky since she has a-fib and is on blood thinner for blood clots. No matter. She acts like she's going to a party.

Mom at Amber's wedding

A picture of herself she sent to Bill when he was in Korea. She wrote on the bottom, "I'm still a little girl at heart."

Tonight I helped her get ready to leave early in the morning. I'm her coach for pre- and post-surgery. Kind of like going to birthing classes, we did an hour of instruction to prepare. We get to wear matching t-shirts for her stay in the hospital. And the hospital loans each of us an i-pad while we're there. Not a bad gig.

Right now Mom and dad live in an apartment at Greenprairie Place, an assisted living facility.  Mom loves living there. She so social, she's in her glory. She's on different social committees and is in a book club and Bible study. She writes for the newsletter, interviewing and doing feature stories on incoming residents.

While she recovers from surgery, she and Dad will live at the nursing home. Dad moved there last week so he'd be adjusted before Mom goes to the hospital.

Mom and I went over to the nursing home side to visit Dad tonight. It took awhile to get there since Mom kept stopping to schmooze with each resident. She knows everyone. She stayed there a few years ago after she had a head injury from a bad fall. The staff love her. Joey, the night duty nurse, told her they're all looking forward to having her around again. She's their success story. (She recovered and made it out of there.)

Dad as a young boy on the farm.

I'm hoping that the nursing home will again be a temporary stay for my parents. I don't know though. It's getting harder and harder for my dad. Even though he has home health at Greenprairie, it's becoming more and more difficult for him as his body is failing and his memory is going.

I know a lot of old people when they have dementia get stubborn and mean. It's the opposite for my dad. He's become more tender and grateful. He's just pleasantly confused.

Mom, who is mentally all there but has a few health problems, is breezing through this season of life. She's one of the happiest and most joyful people I know.

No matter the outcome of Mom's surgery tomorrow, all will be well. I am more blessed than I deserve to have Bill and Shirley as parents. They have lived their lives well. I hope I can be like them when I grow up.