Yesterday we took our first “training” run with Guinness and Iris. And lets just say it went exactly like EVERY other bike ride I’ve had where there are dogs involved. Basically, in a nut shell, Sam crashes and mangles his bike and his body. The dog(s) stand around looking dumbfounded at the wake of destruction that’s been left behind, and Sam is lying motionless on the ground, thinking to himself, “I thought that could have gone better.”
First, let me say, if Sam ever asks to ride your bike, ALWAYS answer him with a resounding “NO”. I can guarantee that it won’t come back in the same working fashion. Secondly, if Sam ever says to you, “Hey, you know what would be a great idea? To take the dogs out for a run using a bike….” At that point you need to run far, far, far away. Don’t ponder the idea; don’t look even mildly interested in the idea; in fact, the best answer to give him is, “I don’t know how to ride a bike.” Even if there are 14 bicycles sitting in your garage, don’t let on that you know how to ride them. Because I can guarantee you that if you even let yourself believe that riding a bike and running a dog at the same time is in any way a good idea, you deserve your fate. A fate that will most likely consist of pain and humiliation.
So we’re riding along. We hadn’t even gotten 200 yards away from our house and Sam’s already having trouble with Guinness. Sam is determined to work G on the left side of his body (like you would if you were in the show ring). Guinness didn’t want to be on the left, he wanted to be on the right, so he kept crowding Sam. Sam is trying to compensate by crowding the curb and things are beginning to get fairly tight. At about 250 yards from the house we come upon a HUGE hill. Really, huge isn’t an overstatement here. This hill puts car brakes to the test, let alone some cheap caliper brakes on a bike. Like idiots, we decide to take it, and about that time Sam’s breaks lock up completely and the drive chain comes off. So he’s basically sliding down the hill at a 45 degree angle to the curb making a racket that is not only scaring Guinness, Iris and me, but ever neighbor kid in a 2 block radius. Within 3 seconds of our descent, people had actually stopped what they were doing and just stared at this guy, trying to go down this enormous hill with a bruised trike, dragging a slobbering black dog who obviously doesn’t want to be anywhere close to this monstrosity. It was beyond embarrassing. Iris and I weren’t having any problems at all, but that didn’t matter – we were being stared at too.
So we get to the bottom of the hill and Guinness is just a wreck. He’s panting and slobbering and on the verge of a total meltdown – so far, he’s not having much fun on this run. So we decide to just turn around and go home. The only problem is – we now have to go back up this gargantuan hill we’ve just come down. And Sam has no drive chain, which means he’s got no pedals. And the electric motor is working but not on this kind of hill, so we’re walking it. And let me tell you, this is not a hill you want to walk up!
We get to the top of the hill and climb back on our trikes, and while I’m getting Iris’ leash wrapped around my hand Sam and Guinness take off with both barrels blazing. Unfortunately, they don’t get 15 yards before Sam runs his trike up on the curb and into our insurance ladies yard. The back end of the IZip comes apart bending the frame, and Sam flies head over heels into the neighbors yard. And the neighbor was taking his Christmas lights down – watching this debacle unfold right before his eyes. It was like a real live episode of JackAss. In my head I could hear the narrator’s voice, “What you’re about to see are real events and may not be suitable for some audiences. These are not trained professionals. Do not attempt this at home.”
Yes people, this is how it always ends! There’s a mangled bike, a bruised up Sam, dogs that are so keyed up they are slobbering and twitching all over the place, and me – the person who always has to drive home alone; get the truck and come back and pick up the pieces.
And don’t think I can’t hear you laughing out there – believe me, I was laughing too (only on the inside).