Rolling-hills Biking

As the storm passes through here, I'm taking a break from gutting out the upstairs. My sinuses and lungs are in dire need of a break from the >200 year coal soot and plaster dust anyway. My sister and I have recently talked about riding our bikes again, and I couldn't help but take a pedal down memory lane.

When I was younger, more so than family dinners, biking the trails brought family togetherness. Even though my brothers would try to speed ahead and I was able to put distance between myself and my parents and sisters, I remember times with our whole family as well as cousins gearing up and heading out. Now as I think of becoming a father, I want to be able to provide my son with some of those rich memories. Of course, Connie needs a better bike, and I'll need one of those goofy baby caravans to tow him along at first before he gets his first set of wheels, but Western PA has some very beautiful bike trails that I want desperately to get back onto; Oil City, Franklin, Sandy Creek, Presque Isle, Wilhelm, Moraine, Buhl, and so many more. I don't think I'll ever consider myself a cyclist, but I would like to become a regular on my old

Schwinn again.

Maybe if I'm lucky, when my son gets a little older, he'll still want to go for a ride. If I'm really lucky, My brothers and sisters will also gear up and head out with me. Sure there were sweat, stink, some scars and scares on that gravel and asphalt, but there were always smiles and laughs too. Who knows, maybe someday we'll hit all those trails with a backpack full of tackle, rod and reel, and a picnic lunch as I used to want to do in my teens.