I've been looking for a bike for my son, Benjamin. He has a 2-wheeler (okay, 4-wheeler, if you count the training wheels) at his dad's house but I want him to have one at our house. I'd posted a sign at our post office; that's how we do it here in Big Creek. You post a sign for all to see, whether you have something to sell or are in need of something. I had a few people say they might have one available but nothing had materialized yet. Next option: Craigslist. I've found some good stuff there, and lo! and behold! I found a bike - perfect size and more-than-fair price. Cool!
Since I found the bike this past week, however, I haven't had any other reason to go to town. You see, when you live in the mountains and have to travel an hour and a quarter, at best, to town for errands and shopping, you tend to wait until you can make the trip worthwhile, both from a time and cost perspective. I'd hoped my sister, who lives in town, might be able to make the bike buy for me; after all, what might take her 30 minutes would take me nearly 3 hours just in drive time. But her family is usually running several different directions at any given time and she didn't have the opportunity to help me this week. So, I decided a bike for Ben was worth the trip.
We left the house a little after 10 this morning, heading straight to Target for helmet, training wheels and extra inner tubes. I scored on all of those and tried to quickly get through the store (namely, the Toy section) without creating an hysterical scene since I had both Benjamin and Elizabeth with me. Next, we hit Costco for yet more milk (how can they consume so much milk?!) and a few other items (again, gotta make the trip worth it), had Costco polish dogs for lunch, which neither child really ate much of, then went to the O'Keefe's home to buy the new (used) bike. I should have known I was in trouble when I excitedly showed the bike to Benjamin, and he immediately wailed he didn't want "small tires." I hurriedly shoved the bike in the back of my Montero, not wanting Mr. O'Keefe to hear my child complain about the bike I'd just bought from him. I realized shortly thereafter Ben was referring to the training wheels, not the wheels already on the bike.
We drove home - another 1 1/4 hours - and I promptly got to work changing the flat tire. It's been YEARS since I had to do that and although I consider myself fairly handy, quite frankly, I quickly learned bike repair is not my forte. I eventually had to enlist the aid of the neighbor teen, Joey, to show me why the chain wouldn't stay on. Now I know.
Ben insisted he could ride the bike without the training wheels. Yeah, right. After pushing him around (and letting go for a second or two a few times!), he was finally convinced he did indeed need those 2 extra small tires. I should have timed how long it took to put the training wheels on, because I was using the worst instructions ever. The diagram was essentially worthless. Success finally came, only to take it back out to the road and have the chain come off - again. Argh. The only good thing about all this is I did get some great pics of my favorite little man on his new bike. So, after fixing the chain for the umpteenth time and 7 hours after we started this adventure, all he wants to do is play with the Hot Wheels car that came with his helmet...
Now I think I understand why my dad used to call me an ingrate when I was a child. Children simply do not understand what their parents go through for them. No, I didn't call Ben an ingrate. He's worth more than that.
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