When You Think Your Bike Is Your Best Friend

Having strong ‘loner’ tendencies, it’s no big surprise that I was drawn to cycling; I didn’t realize just how consuming my love affair with my bike had become until last night when I attempted to recount the details of the most recent ride to my son.
Me: “…so we were riding along Jefferson Highway and the rain was coming down in sheets…”
Him (trying not to laugh): “Mmmhmm…”
Me (becoming more passionate and slightly louder): “All three lanes had traffic, so we had to ride through the standing water on the right side of the road….”
Him (shoulders beginning to shake and eyes watering from trying to suppress the laughter):”Uh-huh…”
Me (louder still and very serious): “Suddenly our tires hit something slick-“
He started laughing out loud, incapable of holding it in any longer.
Me:”…and then we started skidding into the street… Just what the hell is so funny??”
Him (tears running down his face):”Mom! Who is ‘we?’ You and the bike?”
Me:”Oh.”
We’re both still smiling about that. By both, I mean me and my son. Not me and the bike!

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Author: awhitlow2

Murder can take a long time if you’re writing about it. My name is Ashleigh, and I’m a recovering next-timer… we’ll get together next time, I’ll call you next time, I’ll write about it next time, I’ll tell you I love you next time. Then reality hit (finally) that there may not be a next time and I was stunned. What?! We only get one shot at life? Really?! I’m also a recovering slow-learner. So in light of that realization that was over 40 years in the making, I’m writing my first novel- murder, love, redemption. I’m not sure what direction it will take but am enjoying the process and isn’t that what life’s all about anyway? More importantly, I’m living with gratitude for my family; God opened my eyes to the blessings of family and I’m thankful to Him and them for hanging in there with me all these years. (Did I mention I’m a slow-learner?) I’m a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, a nurse, and a writer who LOVES to sing. Loudly. Badly. When no one else is around to hear it. Except the cat. Poor cat.

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