The weather here has been too beautiful to not go outside, so the other day I suggested a bike ride to Steve. So let's do the bridge, he says. But. I have a canary-yellow beach cruiser. It's made for flat surfaces, see. Boardwalks, ice cream cone in hand, leisurely riding. This is no mountain bike. And certainly not suitable for the 17th street bridge with nothing but a dinky shoulder separating me from the careening traffic.
But my dear husband made this sneering snorting noise as if to say, of course you can get yourself and that bike over the bridge. And next thing I know, I'm pumping my legs a mile a minute and reaching the top. Big ridiculous smile on my face like a prize idiot.
So thanks Pook, for without you I probably wouldn't have done that (as silly as that sounds). Bicycle (and I) could totally handle it. Looking forward to lots of beach days via my ray of sunshine this spring and summer.