|
Observations of An Ex-Cop in La La Land |
 ANDY MURCIA |
|
|
 Andy poses with a model who has the sort of curves he can safely negotiate with 'Killer.' |
Get yourself a mountain bike
--but stay off the mountains!
By ANDY MURCIA
of TheColumnists.com
As soon as I discovered my knees would no longer let me run or jog any real distance, like millions of other “old timers,” I took to the walking track. Walking is great for our health and I enjoy it, but I wanted something more. I wanted something that made me feel more alive and something I could do with my then 6-year-old son.
One day some years ago, I was shopping with my wife, Ann, and I tried riding a bike again in a department store. Although I did somehow bump into a pyramid-shaped display of glass camping lanterns and send it crashing to the floor, it’s true what they say about how you never completely forget how to ride a bike.
It was kind of embarrassing for Ann when the salesman came running towards the noise of all that glass breaking, but being the smart blond that she is, she immediately acted as if she didn’t know me! When you have an actress for a wife, you soon learn they can be very convincing.
“Which way to washing machines, please?" she asked the floorwalker and hastily made her getaway.
Anyway, I recommend you take it slow the first time you climb back on a bike--get your balance back and before long you will be riding like you did in your youth. Well, almost.
The department store ride convinced me I wanted a bike of my own. I even subscribed to Bicycle Magazine, looked in all the stores and before long, I knew the make, color, and type of bike that I wanted. I learned that while many bikes look alike, they could vary greatly. The bikes you see in the department stores and the chain sporting good stores were most likely assembled by the same guy who puts the lawn mowers and weightlifting sets together. I found it pays to locate a “bike shop” where there is a real bike mechanic exclusively doing the assembling. Most bikes are made overseas and arrive in a box. Taking a department store bike into a real bike shop to have it correctly reassembled runs about $65.00 on average. But the expense is only a small part of it. How much do you value your life?--that's the big question. Believe me, the first time you're coasting down a steep hill at 25 miles per hour, you'll REALLY want to know your bike was assembled correctly.
 |
enough, right? Read on and learn why it's called 'Killer.' |
I found my bike at the Newbury Park Bike Shop, in Newbury Park, CA: A blue and yellow Schwinn mountain bike. It’s a beauty! Sure, I paid a few bucks more than the department store bikes, but after checking out Newberry’s repair shop and seeing their top bike mechanics at work, the confidence I gained was worth it. I’ve since bought four more bikes there--one for Ann, two for our son, Andrew, and a second model for myself.
Because they referred to
my bike as a “mountain bike,” when I first got it,
I figured I had to go ride it in the mountains, off road, right?
WRONG! I discovered
that the first time I went to a state park that had a mountain
bike path. The experience was bloody, although kind of funny
in retrospect.
It was winter in California. The park was all but empty except
for a Mexican couple enjoying a McDonald’s picnic lunch
nearby. I unloaded the bike off the rack on my car, put on my
orange helmet, bike gloves and mounted up. As I pedaled very
slowly past the lunch couple, I glanced over, intending to just
wave hello, when my tire slid on the loose rocks of the path,
and down I went!
The nice Mexican guy came running to help, but I wasn't injured--just very embarrassed--so, I waved him off, yelling “Gracias, amigo; I’m okay!” As I mounted up again and started to pedal off, I got to thinking how nice that was for him to come to my aid. So, I looked back to give him one more thank-you wave--and down I went again. This time I knew I was hurt because I'd landed on one knee and there was a rock the size of a .45 slug embedded in my kneecap and my elbow was bleeding.
This time the Mexican couple
continued to eat their lunch, laughing loudly as they watch me
struggle to my feet. I yelled for them to come help me, but the
helpful Mexican guy was now guffawing, slapping his knee as he
blots his watery eyes.
I yelled again and this time I guess they could hear the hysteria
in my voice, so they got up and cautiously walked over. Once
they realized I was hurt, they were great; they ran to my car,
got my first aid box. The man emptied his super-sized soda out
and put the ice in a bag for my knee while his lady helped bandage
me up. Afterwards, I asked why they were laughing when I went
down the second time. Well, it turned out they thought I was
a trick rider, like in the circus, and was intentionally falling
to make them laugh.
Despite my red face and my injuries, I was still determined to ride the mountain path. Long story short: After falling several more times, luckily on dirt, I wound up walking the bike up most of the mountain to the top. I found a picnic table up there, parked the bike and stretched out for a well-deserved nap. It was here that I started thinking maybe I should call my bike “Killer,” being as it almost did me in.
I woke up from my nap as the sun was quickly setting and it had become cold. I hopped on “Killer” and decided to avoid the bike path and take the car road downhill instead. That was Mistake #2. As I started coasting down the steep grade, the bike picked up speed, faster and faster. I tried using my hand brakes, but the speeds were getting so fast the brakes were almost null and void. The road was newly paved, and wound down the mountain in a circular fashion. The speed was getting too fast for even these wide curves. I pressed harder on my brakes. I started thinking I might go off the road and tumble down into the forest where nobody would find me for days! Was I going to wind up being bear food?
|
bike path Andy no longer even imagines trying to ride. |
 |
I started praying the next
curve would have a grassy flat area where I could lay the bike
down and slide to a stop. What’s a few more lacerations
compared to death? I'd try anything to keep from going off a
cliff. As I rounded the next curve with a “rumbly in my
tumbly” as Winnie The Pooh would say, I was in luck! There
it was, not too green, but it was sort of flatland and I had
to be doing at least 30 mph now!
But, before I could lay the bike down and slide, I hit a hard
bump and off I flew one way and the bike another. I came to an
abrupt stop on my back. I lay there quietly, just trying to remember
where the hell I was, and what just happened. I got to thinking
that I must be alive because I was cold. Or maybe not: Stiffs
on ice are cold, too. I thought maybe I bought the farm.
Just then a tall guy appeared in my line of vision. He seemed
to be saying something. I saw his mouth move and slowly his words
started arriving in my ear as if they were being strained through
a cotton filter. The guy had a beard, but he didn’t look
like the Jesus I pray to. He was much too fat. Well, the guy
was a park Ranger. He had seen me crash and was there to help.
God bless the California Park Rangers! No broken bones, but cut
up and bleeding and mighty sore for the next week or so.
Do I still ride ‘Killer”? You bet I do, but now I’m what they call in biking slang a “flat liner,” meaning I ride only on flat bike paths. My pal, Howard Levine, likes me to ride up the steep hill by Forest Lawn in Burbank, CA. I did it once, but it’s just too close to the cemetery there for me! My favorite ride is the bike path that runs along Pacific Ocean beach, the air there is the best available in L.A. and the scenery is gorgeous! I have a nice 18 mile run from Sunset Boulevard south to the Marina Del Rey boat basin.
|
the sort of bike that doesn't require you to risk life and limb. |
 |
Riding a bike is great exercise for the old heart, lungs, and legs. When I feel that nice breeze in my face, I feel like a kid again. I talk to many guys my age and older who ride bike, and they all tell me their physical and mental health was improved by it.
Sometimes Howard and I will check out the weird sights on the Venice Beach walk, I got to ride a very tiny bike there. Biking indirectly, got me into a modeling situation with a former Miss Hawaiian Tropic Doll. She insisted that I take a photograph with her. Howard always has his camera with him, so you're all in luck. Hey, somebody had to pose with her, right? And I knew I could handle that without falling down or getting all cut up.
Anyway, Spring is just around the corner, so get a bike or dust your old one off. Be a kid again. It will do you good.
© 2002 by Andy Murcia.
Photos of Andy in bicycle gear are by Howard Levine; photos without
people in them were taken by Andy Murcia.
You
can comment on this column online. Please address your message
to either "The Editors" or Andy Murcia. To send an
email, click here: talkback@thecolumnists.com
| Home | About Us | Archives | Talkback | Shopping Mall |