The Boy and I decided yesterday that we’d go mountain biking today after school. He wanted to go to a bike park in a town about half an hour from here, but I said it was too far and suggested Lakeside Park, where L had her sand volleyball practices. He agreed, somewhat reluctantly, but seemed eager about the afternoon when I left this morning.
This afternoon, just as I was finishing up with the bikes and bike rack, he came out to tell me he wasn’t ready.
“Well, get ready,” I laughed.
“No, I’m not mentally ready. I don’t really want to go now.”
This is what I was waiting for, almost expecting. It happens more times than I care to experience, and sometimes, K and I take a more gentle approach, trying to get him to see the positives of it, reminding him why he wanted to do it in the first place. Not today. Today, I didn’t have the time for that.
“Stinks to be you. We’re leaving in a few minutes. Change your shirt and get your shoes on.”
I went go get his bike to complete the whole packing process (his goes on last) and saw that his back tire was flat. Again. I’d just replaced the innertube before our last adventure only to have it rupture about a mile from the car. I’d simply taken the older one, which had the slow leak, and patched the leak. It had worked fine for a while.
This put a new crimp in the plan. He was already reluctant to go. Getting a flat in the middle of a ride might turn him off of riding for a while. There might be even more fussing the next time. I decided just to take the chance. I pumped up his tire, saw that it was holding, and packed the bike. When we arrived at the park, it was still holding. About midway through the first part of the ride, though, E noticed it was getting squishy. We went back to the car, pumped it back up, and rode another few miles.
“That was fun,” was his verdict.