Two weeks ago, pedaling alone uphill on the hottest day so far this year, my rear tire went flat. I had never changed a tire on this new bike without husband or son to coach and advise, but there I was by a corner of lawn under a shady tree on this quiet residential street. So I unloaded the bike and set to figuring it out. Halfway done, I declined a call from hubby to come rescue me. 45 minutes later I had everything back together, filthy hands, covered in grease marks, and started off again. By then the 87 degrees had cooled off to something much more balmy and pleasant. It was the perfect evening to continue my ride, happy and confident that I could change a flat and get the rear wheel back on through all the chain and gearing mechanisms that I still do not quite understand. No time pressure helped a lot, too. I got home at 8:00 p.m., grateful to have daylight and good weather for this perfect flat tire.
Two days ago, after pedaling up the same hill and hopping on the bus in order to get home in time for my violin students, I saw that my bike bag was gone. It had been on the bike when I left work, containing cell phone, calendar, and rain gear. Yikes! So I got off at the next stop, waited for the next returning bus, got back to the original stop, and the bag was not there. No cell phone. Violin students due in an hour. What to do?
What I did was an inventory of the present moment. I was okay; I had my wallet and my bike with me. I had choices. How important were the bag and the cell phone, to go back and search? I dislike my "smart" phone anyway, and am planning to revert back to my flip phone that actually knows how to behave like a phone. The bag could be replaced, though I am attached to the excellent and rechargeable flashing light on it that was a gift from my family. I had options. Contacting home seemed important, followed by doing what I could to find the bag. The violin students wouldn't mind a canceled lesson.
I was lucky to find a bike patrol police officer right away, who kindly loaned me his cell phone to call home. My husband's first words were, "Your bag has been returned to the security officer at the PUD where you work." I couldn't believe it! Another police officer had found it, dialed the "Home" number on my cell phone, found out from my husband where I worked, and already taken care of returning it to my workplace. What a miracle!
So I got an extra 5 miles riding back downhill to the office, retrieved the bag, refilled my water bottle, and headed with relief straight to the bus station. Another lesson in being okay with the unexpected, doing an inventory of the present moment and realizing that I'm perfectly okay right now, and figuring out the next best thing to do. I think I'll be doing a lot of that on my journey. The adventures and lessons have already begun.
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