Our mission yesterday: to take the bicycles to the new house.
Why? Because it’s a tradition (well, we’ve done it once before, in 2003). Because it was good exercise. To avoid the hassle of moving them in the truck on moving day. And because it was a nice day… so why not?
I’d taken yesterday off to pack boxes and clear stuff out. I packed 4 boxes, and threw probably 3 boxes worth of things out. Probably should have got more done, but at least it’s progress.
After school the kids and I got on the bikes and headed off. According to WhereIs’s directions, it’s about 4.5km. Not a hugely long ride, but not a trivial one either, especially as Jeremy’s still on training wheels. I’ve been trying to talk him into ditching them, but he hasn’t been convinced yet.
We set out along the footpath, Jeremy in front with orders to watch for cars in driveways, followed by me, and Isaac at the rear. I was pondering if I’d have to explain to any cranky old ladies along the way that it’s legal for kids under 12 to ride on the footpath; and also adults like me if they are accompanying said children.
We reached the halfway point without too much trouble. A bit further down the road we got to a milkbar about two-thirds of the way, and decided to stop for an icecream.
Refreshed, we were just setting off for the rest of the trip when one of Jeremy’s training wheels broke. It was like a supermarket trolley wheel — loose, obstructive, and unable to be fixed on the spot without tools. Jeremy soldiered-on regardless for a bit, leaning the bike onto the other training wheel, but eventually it proved too much and we ended up walking the last kilometre or so.
We got to the house about an hour after we’d set out, so overall we did it at about walking pace.
Mission accomplished. Three less things to move.
Updated 6pm: Then we caught the train home.