Three times a week if it's not raining, Rylan and I ride our bike to pick up Cole and Eli from school.
If we leave early enough, we take the long way, following the greenway through 3.5 miles of car-free backwoods. We zoom along the mostly flat path, braking only for squirrels and stray cats. Some days we spot deer. Once, we nearly ran over a snake.
If we're running late, we take the short way - 1 3/4 miles of city streets and sidewalks. We take a route with little traffic, but I feel comfortable now riding on the street, taking the lane when necessary or bumping up onto the sidewalk. Rylan's cheery smile calms even the most aggressive of drivers.
We meet Cole and Eli outside the school - they give me an earful about their day as we head up the hill to the bus stop. Then there are trees to climb, flowers to pick, snacks to eat, while we wait for that familiar blue bus to round the corner.
When the bus arrives, I wrestle my bike onto the rack, and off we go. My boys are old hats at riding the bus, perfect charmers for the mix of blue collar workers, starched and pressed businessmen, and tourists that catch the R-Line.
"Hello," we greet the bus driver with a smile. The drivers all know us by sight. One day the driver missed our signal to get off, and when I called out, "Wait!", she called back, "I'm so sorry! This is where
you get off!"
I'm sure the bus drivers are not the only downtowners who could pick us out of a line up. We are a sight to see as we wrestle the bike off the bus and head the final half mile home - Rylan in the front seat, me pedaling, Eli on the rack, Cole running beside. A parade of Peters coming home from school.
PAST POSTS ABOUT OUR "COMMUTE"
