In Which There Are Some Historic Bike Rides

Detail of art in lobby of Marion Public Library looks a little bike like.

Me with signed copy of Mary Vermilion's "Seminal Murder."

On the trail on the way to the library.

The biking week was filled with some journeys of note—a first ride and a final one.

First, the first ride. One week ago today, we were planning to go to the Marion Public Library. A colleague and mystery novelist, Dr. Mary Vermillion, was on an author panel there, and I, my wife and youngest son were going to attend.

It was such a nice day that we decided to bike. We rode the Boyson trail in a small three-bike caravan, me on Francis, my wife on her mountain bike Schwinn and my youngest son on a snazzy road bike owned by my oldest son. It must have been a bit of a pain for him to ride with us, as that road bike struggles to travel as slowly as Francis.

The ride was fine, the route worked out (we left the trail at the bridge to the Marion High School football field and then took streets behing McDonald’s east) and the program interesting. I purchased a copy of Mary’s novel “Seminal Murder” and have enjoyed the first 6 chapters.

After the program, we met two daughters and their families for a walk through the Marion Farmers’ Market, and then bicycled through Marion east to a daughter’s home.

That, and the bike ride home afterwards, represented fairly long journeys for our little group, the first ride of such length my wife and I have been on this year. I hope I can encourage my wife to continue this new trend of occasionally biking. I like biking alone, but the only thing that beats that is biking with someone.

The final ride was Wednesday. We had decided to do a “boy’s” and “girl’s” day out with grandchildren that day, so Audrey went with granddaughters Nikayla and Amelia, and I had a biking adventure with grandson Tristan.

Playing at Tucker Park after final bike ride.

This was Mr. T’s symbolic final ride in the toddler seat. He’s not too heavy, but is getting too tall to fit in the seat. Anyway, I think he enjoyed the journey through part of the Boyson Trail and then west to the Hiawatha Library, but by the time we got there, he was over it. We joined the girls there for a music program, and when we left to go to a park, he was ready to ride in the van rather than on the bike.

So it goes. He has his own bike now, and over time will learn to ride it. I hope sometime soon to meet them—Tristan and Nikayla—at the Boyson Trail so we can do some rides together, each on our own bike. Maybe Amelia will go along on the toddler seat.

And next year, several new grandchildren will be big enough for the toddler seat. Time marches on.