I ride a bicycle to work. Nothing fancy, just an older Specialized Allez that desperately needs some love and attention. I have been commuting for about five years, ever since we found out that Hollie had a Bun in her oven. I started out on a borrowed mongoose mountain bike of sorts and that was painful and slow and so very heavy. After doing some research I found out that on a part-time retail salary with a baby on the way, good bikes were
not cheap. So instead of doing the sensible thing and save up some money while suffering on the 'goose, I jumped the gun and purchased a heinous hybrid from Walmart that was very unfortunate in every. single. aspect. of. bike-ness. As soon as I was able to return that to the store I was on my way to our lbs to see their selection of used bikes. And there it was. A used, dull grey Specialized Allez. A real road bike, even with the fancy break/gear shifting setup, not like a mountain bike at all (nothing against mountain bikes, fyi)! So I started riding that bike. I named it "Theodore" after one of my favorite historical people: TR. I rode TR through the rain, snow, humid Arkansas summer, all the time. I love this bike. I used to get up early on Saturday mornings and ride for 25 miles early enough where if I had to work I would have enough time to get ready.
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| This....is not my bike |
When we moved to Texas it was summer, and that means one thing: triple-digit heat. No shade. No breeze. Nothing except the gigantic ball of fire roasting everything. So I did not ride that summer. Theodore was neglected and alone in a closet. I had an on-campus job and so I did not ride much to work, every once and a while I did but a short five minute ride was not that exciting.
That all changed when I changed jobs. My current place of employment is almost five miles from our house, so I ride all the time to work now, well, at least I try to. About a month after I started there I had a pretty bad bike wreck. A car almost hit me and as I tried to take more of the lane (after they passed of course) my front wheel caught in a crack and I flew over the handlebars. Bending some stuff on the bike, my head bouncing on the pavement, I (think) tore a ligament in my hand, giving me "hammer finger". Bleeding profusely from my knees, realizing that I could have been ran over while lying in a normally busy street during morning rush hour, I picked up my battered bike, slung my bag over my shoulder and hobbled the rest of the way to work. Two months later I was able to ride again, my hand was mostly healed and my knees now have this weird calcified pointy parts that I'm told will go away eventually.
Despite the fact that I have been almost hit more times than I can count, and actually been in two bike accidents (both while commuting to work) I love riding my bike. When we move to the Philippines, I will hand Theodore over to my parents to keep him until we come back (thanks mom and dad!), this makes me sad, but knowing that the Gospel is worth giving things up for, and knowing that God and His Church need to be built up and His fame and glory spread, and that He has called us to be apart of His mission, I would drop Theodore in a dump and never look back if it would help bring others to know of the immeasurable love and grace that our God has lavished upon us through the Cross.
