The area where I live has about 200 miles of bike trails around it, many of them circling the area to allow rides that loop back to your starting point. I usually am on these trails 5-6 times a week. The trails are old railroad beds that have been paved over to allow a smooth ride and many people use them for riding, running, walking the dog, etc.
One late morning I was on a trail about four miles from home, making my way back. I had been alone for most of the ride since most people are riding a lot earlier in the morning. As I came around a bend in the trail I could see a cyclist up ahead of me, maintaining the distance as we rode. Something ran across the trail in front of the cyclist and I saw them try to steer around whatever it was but the front wheel turned sharply to the right and the rider flew off the bike, landing on the pavement and sliding into the grass at the side of the trail. Most cyclists are a friendly bunch and willing to help each other out as needed and I came to a stop by the rider, instantly seeing a front wheel that was bent and made the bike useless to ride.
"Shit, " a female voice exclaimed. "Stupid deer."
"Hi, I saw you fall. Are you alright?"
"Hey. I scrapped up my knee pretty bad and my bike's a mess."
"Well, I have a first aid kit in my truck and we can get your bike back to your car. I'll carry it for you if you'd like."
She chuckled and looked up at me, the first glimpse I had of her face. She seemed quite a bit younger than my 48 years, but a pretty smile and brown eyes. Her light hair was tucked up under her helmet.
"You would need to carry the bike pretty far. I rode from my apartment back in town and don't have my car with me."
"Oh. Well, unfortunately we're not real close to the parking lot where my truck is either. Your knee looks pretty bloody too. Let me take a look at it."
She stuck her leg out and I poured water from my bottle over the wound to wash away the blood. It was scraped pretty bad and continued to bleed, definitely needing a bandage of some type.
"How sore is it? Are you able to walk?" I asked trying to figure out a way to get her and the bike back to the parking area.
My knee is sore," she responded, "but I think I can walk on it. We'll just need to go slow."
"Well, since we'll be walking for a little while, no need to be strangers. My name is Tom."
"Hi, Tom. I'm Sara. Thanks for stopping."
She was standing, testing the knee to make sure she could walk on it. I noticed she filled out her bike shorts very nicely, legs more muscular than most women, and a large, round ass filling out the back. She was a few inches shorter than me and her biking shirt was filled out generously. She took her helmet off and shook out her shoulder length light brown, almost blond hair. I quickly looked away to prevent myself from staring.
"No problem. I'd stop for anyone that needed help."
We started walking the several miles back to the parking lot, she walking my bike and me carrying hers over my shoulder. It took a little over an hour to make the parking lot, giving us time for small talk along the way. I learned she is a grad student at the local university but didn't decide to go back until she was 31. She said she it was difficult at first as she was older than most of the students and didn't have a lot in common with them. She also worked part time in one of the college's offices but tried to ride as much as time would allow between classes and her job.
I let her do most of the talking as she went into a lot of detail about places she had traveled, what she had been doing with her life up to this point. The more she spoke, the more interested I was becoming. She had traveled to a few places I would like to go so that made the conversation more interesting. Before we realized it, we were at the parking lot and my truck. I loaded my bike on the rack and had to put hers in the bed as the bent wheel wouldn't allow it to sit correctly on the rack. She sat in the seat of the truck while I got the first aid kit and looked at her knee. Rinsing the blood off, I sprayed some antibiotic on it and topped it off with a Mickey Mouse bandage.
She laughed at the bandage, saying, "I feel like I'm ten again. Cute bandage." And she laughed again.
"We're still young at heart right? No reason we can't have a little fun."
She looked up and smiled at me, sending a feeling through me I haven't felt in a while.
Since there is only one bike shop in town, I headed there. Sara was a little dismayed when she found out repairs would take about a week and a half due to the back log of work the shop had.
"Hey, that's no problem," I volunteered. "I have a bike you can borrow."
"Really? You do? And you don't mind me borrowing it?" She seemed really pleased with this offer.
"No, I don't mind. The bike isn't being used so you can take it until yours is repaired. We'll have to go by my house to pick it up."
It took a few minutes to reach my house and I opened the garage door to reveal a Trek racing bike hanging from hooks in the garage.
"That's really a nice bike," Sara said. "Why do you have two?"
"This was my wife's bike. She died about three years ago and it hasn't been used since."
There was no intention to elicit sympathy from her. I had pretty much gotten over Lisa's death from the car accident but the look from Sara was one of sorrow, her big eyes exuding a warm and caring look.
"I'm really sorry. I feel like an idiot, sticking my foot in my mouth like that."
I smiled at her and said it wasn't a big deal. Since I hadn't mentioned the fact she died, she didn't know. Sara got on the bike and rode it up and down the street in front of my house. We had to adjust the seat and handle bars a little to provide a better fit. Once that was finished, I loaded the bike on the rack of my truck and took her to her apartment. She lived in a building with eight apartments that were usually rented out to the college kids. Since she lived on the second floor, I carried the bike up for her to her door.
