I have a bike, but I probably shouldn’t have a bike – Part Two

Read “Part One”. The following will make more sense if you do.

So the second time I took my fancy new bike for a ride after my nightmarish first go-round, I opted to ride along the boardwalk early in the day. I had taken this ride hundreds of times growing up, so knew there shouldn’t be any drama this time around.

When I got to the boardwalk, the ocean was calm, bright sunny sky, birds flying above – it made perfect sense to bring the bike along the water and ride along the compacted, water-soaked sand.

After giving it a try, I quickly found I couldn’t build up the speed necessary to continue on. So I stood to watch the ocean.

I squared up with the sea and held the bike with one hand by the center of its handlebar as it stood next to me.

I saw a wave begin to build as it neared the shoreline. I took a step back.

It grew larger than I first anticipated. I took another step back.

The wave crashed and rushed to my feet.

I freakedthefuckout and forgot I was holding a bike.

I turned toward the bike to run. But the bike was in my way.

I tripped over it. The water rushed over me and the bike as I laid there, unable to get up as my legs were on top of the bike.

…

I rode home soaking wet. Barely able to ride because of all the sand in the gears.

And the bike was then covered and full of corrosive salt water.

And I never rode the bike again.

_

Follow me on Twitter!
-
Follow the feed!
_