09-11-2014, 05:17 AM
Summertime
The truck pulled up and the boy and his dad sat there a few minutes, the boy was talking excitedly and had had his helmet on the whole drive over from the house. As they opened the doors to get out the boy was squinching his eyes trying to make out everything going on on the track. He pointed out to his dad as his dad was lowering the tailgate to get his bike down all the people he could see walking and riding bikes already and some people that looked like they were walking dogs.
"Them over there look like they're walking their dogs around," the boy told his father.
"They might be walking their dogs on it, or they might be going to the trails that go far back on over there," his dad said.
The boy stood holding his bike up watching the concrete track. There was one person on a bike, and two people walking alone in the far distance. The track was a circle, you could go round, or you could cut into the woods over on the far end.
"You'll walk next to me?" the boy asked.
"You'll go too fast being on that bike," his dad laughed.
"But you need to get exercise," the boy said.
"I always do," his dad said. "But you ride faster on the bike."
"Oh," the boy said.
He followed the trail paved from the parking lot leading onto the track and slowly hopped up on the seat. His father stood at the end of the trail and watched him push off and start pedalling.
This was the first time he'd rode his bike anywhere except around in his front yard. He'd got the bike for his birthday a couple years ago but never rode it much. He was ten now. Most of the time he stayed inside playing video games or watching TV. He knew how to ride his bike, but it was still new to him.
His father walked around the track once while he rode four times about twenty feet one way and then back the other way. Every time he had to turn he got off the bike and turned it then hopped back on it. He was wearing a black shirt and black shorts and was sweating an awful lot, especially under his white styrofoam helmet and the black strap that went under his chin. He held the handlebars loosely, and they turned as he rode making his front wheel wiggle side to side so much that he couldn't pick up much speed. There were no gears on the bike, and no brakes to grip with his hands. It was the kind you stopped by pushing back on the pedals. He hit his brakes and put his feet down on the track a few times as he rode along.
When his dad got back around to where he was riding they headed back to the truck. He rode his bike over to the trail leading to the parking lot and then got off. He pushed the bike a little ways. "I went a bunch of times then back, people probably get tired fast going back and forth like that I was doing," he said. His dad took the bike and pushed it to the back of the truck to load it in again.
"When you go back to school this year and they ask you what you did this summer, what are you going to say?"
He thought about it and then said "I rode my bike."
"You was riding your bike," his father said in a warm voice.
They got in the truck and the boy took his helmet off after he shut the door. They talked, the boy said things about how hard it was to make turns on the bike, and his dad talked about how they'd tell his mother he rode on the track when they got home. The boy breathed hard and still had sweat running down in his face. When they got home his mom would have dinner ready and his dad would take the bike out of the back of the truck and put it down in the basement where they kept it so no one would steal it and it wouldn't get wet or damaged.
The truck pulled up and the boy and his dad sat there a few minutes, the boy was talking excitedly and had had his helmet on the whole drive over from the house. As they opened the doors to get out the boy was squinching his eyes trying to make out everything going on on the track. He pointed out to his dad as his dad was lowering the tailgate to get his bike down all the people he could see walking and riding bikes already and some people that looked like they were walking dogs.
"Them over there look like they're walking their dogs around," the boy told his father.
"They might be walking their dogs on it, or they might be going to the trails that go far back on over there," his dad said.
The boy stood holding his bike up watching the concrete track. There was one person on a bike, and two people walking alone in the far distance. The track was a circle, you could go round, or you could cut into the woods over on the far end.
"You'll walk next to me?" the boy asked.
"You'll go too fast being on that bike," his dad laughed.
"But you need to get exercise," the boy said.
"I always do," his dad said. "But you ride faster on the bike."
"Oh," the boy said.
He followed the trail paved from the parking lot leading onto the track and slowly hopped up on the seat. His father stood at the end of the trail and watched him push off and start pedalling.
This was the first time he'd rode his bike anywhere except around in his front yard. He'd got the bike for his birthday a couple years ago but never rode it much. He was ten now. Most of the time he stayed inside playing video games or watching TV. He knew how to ride his bike, but it was still new to him.
His father walked around the track once while he rode four times about twenty feet one way and then back the other way. Every time he had to turn he got off the bike and turned it then hopped back on it. He was wearing a black shirt and black shorts and was sweating an awful lot, especially under his white styrofoam helmet and the black strap that went under his chin. He held the handlebars loosely, and they turned as he rode making his front wheel wiggle side to side so much that he couldn't pick up much speed. There were no gears on the bike, and no brakes to grip with his hands. It was the kind you stopped by pushing back on the pedals. He hit his brakes and put his feet down on the track a few times as he rode along.
When his dad got back around to where he was riding they headed back to the truck. He rode his bike over to the trail leading to the parking lot and then got off. He pushed the bike a little ways. "I went a bunch of times then back, people probably get tired fast going back and forth like that I was doing," he said. His dad took the bike and pushed it to the back of the truck to load it in again.
"When you go back to school this year and they ask you what you did this summer, what are you going to say?"
He thought about it and then said "I rode my bike."
"You was riding your bike," his father said in a warm voice.
They got in the truck and the boy took his helmet off after he shut the door. They talked, the boy said things about how hard it was to make turns on the bike, and his dad talked about how they'd tell his mother he rode on the track when they got home. The boy breathed hard and still had sweat running down in his face. When they got home his mom would have dinner ready and his dad would take the bike out of the back of the truck and put it down in the basement where they kept it so no one would steal it and it wouldn't get wet or damaged.
