"If you're gonna fly a bicycle you'd better make sure E.T. is sitting in your basket instead of a twelve pack of beer." - Earl, My Name is Earl

So, this is the Baby Dragger, complete with Baby. We tried to take it back, but Wal-Mart says once the Baby is out of the store, they won't take it back. Some state law about used babies.

Date: April 31
Mileage: 1,013,490
April mileage: 7
Time: 5 hours
Temperature upon departure: 40ºF
(with apologies to Jill at Up in Alaska)

Today was a day of destiny. Since The Mrs. had procured the infamous Baby Dragger, she had been excited for a longer family bike ride and picnic. The Boy scoots across the yard pretty well, so, we thought we’d make the trip from our home to a local park. Upside, it’s a trip to a park. Downside, the park is about six miles away.

I had an eye appointment on Saturday, so that made the day for the Infamous Long Ride Sunday. The Boy was ready early. If we’re going shopping, it takes a fire poker glowing a soft yellow to threaten him to the point that he’ll fetch his socks and get ready. If we’re doing what he wants to do, he wakes up at 4AM, makes coffee for The Mrs. and I, does laundry, changes the oil in the car, and any other task he feels is necessary to get us going to do what he wants sooner.

This was just such a day. I was gently awakened by The Mrs. who brought me a steaming hot cup of coffee. I immediately sniffed the aroma, smiled, and turned onto my other side to continue dreaming. The Mrs. then sent The Boy in to continue getting me awake.

The Boy: “Hey, Dad, how many things do you want?”

Me: “What things?”

Without answering me, he wandered out of the room. I could hear him shout to The Mrs., “Daddy wants four sandwiches.”

As I continued drowsing, I figured that certainly wouldn’t be too few.

I finally did get up, got enough caffeine into my system to make immediate death a worry, and found that The Mrs. had:

• Made the lunch,
• Got both The Boy and The New Boy ready,
• Polished the chains on the bicycles, and
• Ironed my shirts.

In the meantime, I had eaten a stale doughnut and had consumed two cups of coffee. I guess she’s just an overachiever.

We started out. At the end of our driveway there were two ways to go, and The Mrs. started going the long way. As a member of the International Confederation of Males, it is my sworn duty to inform The Mrs. whenever she’s about to go the long way. She shrugged, and headed due east instead of west. I figured that I had saved us about half a mile.

Alas, what passes for a good shoulder (on a road) for an adult was ruled (rightly) by The Mrs. to be a shoulder only in the barest academic sense. The Boy was further mystified when I referred to the road shoulder as a “shoulder.” He indicated that roads were in fact not corporeal beings, e.g., humans, and should not be considered to have shoulders.

The traffic on this section of road was also faster than that seen on most NASCAR tracks, and, indeed, was limited in speed only by the horsepower of engine available and the aerodynamic resistance of the car’s body shape and the sudden buffeting resistance felt by objects as they pass the speed of sound. The cars were zooming. Zooming cars plus narrow shoulders equals a dad in trouble.

After the torrent of abuse from the two humans who could talk (I’m sure The New Boy would have jumped in had he an adequate grasp of the English language, and I’m still trying to figure out what “garpflsusk” means – I’m pretty sure it was uncomplimentary) we made it to the bike path.

To Be Concluded Wednesday in: The Boy and The Holy Grail