This past week I bought a bike. She is an easter egg blue Kona, which they have nicknamed the "Honkey Tonk." As soon as I brought her home, Ben's bike let out a huge whistle, which I immediately scolded him and told him "she's a lady." Well ten minutes later they were making out, so apparently she is not quite a lady. Anyways, it's great having a bike again. Every bike I have ever owned (except the beautiful Schwinn Ben gave me) has been stolen: Huffy White Heat=stolen; Raleigh=stolen; Trek=stolen on a Sunday morning in front of the Heathman; so when I bought it I made sure I got a top of the line lock and a pit bull to tie to the bike when I'm not around.
To break her in, we thought that a ride out to Redhook Brewery on the Burke Gilman was in order. I mean if you haven't ridden a bike in ten years, why not try for a 50-miler your first week? So yesterday we geared up and headed out. A quick stop at the bike shop and once to use the bathroom and we were on our way. The ride was lovely: warm, sunny, light breeze (except on the way back), and mostly rode along the water. We made it to Redhook after only one wrong turn and sat on the patio with our well deserved beer and a lunch, joined by Ben & Mellena, and new baby Keira. Blissful.
Then came the ride the back, where I literally met the devil himself...or the devil's torture tool. See picture:
Once I got back on my bike I knew I was in trouble. It's not really my butt that hurts, but these bones I never knew existed. I mean does this thing even look comfortable? No. Is anyone's butt that small. Not in my family (no offense to anyone).
After a mile back on the trail with my full belly I tried every possible way to sit, or not to sit, cursing the maker of this stupid seat. And I know it was a man (no offense again), because no woman in her right mind would design something this poorly. If it was designed by a woman, comfort would be the number one priority. Think tractor seat size (where you actually use your natural cushion back there), lined with faux fur, and a least two inches of mattress foam (think Posturepedic), with a possible massage option once you really needed it. But no. I have a three inch wide piece of brick that the bike guy told me "well it's just that you haven't ridden in a while," and my husband said "give it a chance, you'll get used to it." Uh-Huh.
I'm no dummy. What I've learned is that anything over 20 miles requires padded shorts. And anyone who questions me, I double dare you to do the 50 miles on the devil's torture tool listed above...then you'll be happy to join my padded butt gang.
Overall, great trip and I love the bike. The adventures will really begin now.