The crisp fall day feels like a gift after the freezing rain and cold temperatures swept in by Hurricane Sandy. F. asks to ride his bike to school and I agree. I know his bike-riding-days are limited with winter around the corner. I remind him to be careful and wave him on his way.
Chaz calls my cell on his way to work to report that he saw F. rolling his bike up Zig Zag. “Completely flat,” he reports. “I told him to take the bus home.”
I have another idea. I stop at Walgreens and buy a bike pump on the way to school and a scheduled PTO meeting where I prop the bike pump on the table. “I don’t want to forget,” I say. A table full of busy moms multi-tasking understand.
After the meeting, I circle the school to the bike racks where F.’s orange mountain bike lists against the metal stand. I squeeze the back tire. So little air remains that my fingers nearly touch. I attach the nozzle and start to pump until the tire firms.
A half-dozen bikes keep F’s company. I move down the line, checking each tire and adding air if it needs it.
I smile and sneak away. That was fun.