Training wheels needed

About a month ago I received a birthday present my derriere won't soon forget.

I was gifted a slightly used red bike.

Memories from my childhood resurfaced of my hot pink pedal bike with teal seat and handlebars. At first I was made fun of for referring to it as a "pedal bike," until I explained that "bike" to me, meant a motor was attached to the frame and it could exceed 60 miles per hour in 4.2 seconds.

Not long after learning to pedal I discovered a "bike," and could be seen zipping around the farm on an old beat-up Honda 110. It was the speed I craved. So needless to say, its been over 20 years since the peddling days, and lately I have experienced one challenging refresher course.

In all honesty I was petrified to get on my bike. Visions of crashing into the pavement, speeding cars and most of all trying to pry the tiny bike seats out of my behind made me leery.

Finally, on a day when no one was around, I worked up the nerve to make my first attempt at riding. I opened the garage door and slowly walked my new bike outside, and turned around and walked it back inside. I climbed astride my bike and decided that riding out of the garage would fool the neighbors into believing I was a veteran. After about five minutes I pushed the visions aside, and with white knuckles and sweaty palms pushed myself out the door.

For a fleeting moment I had hope that all was going to be fine, until I encountered the "toe contraptions." It seems that pedals have advanced from the old fashioned bear claw, to ones that have a plastic toe holder to slip your shoe into. These "toe contraptions" are great inventions until you have to get your toe in or out of them. I couldn't, for the life of me, get my second foot into its "toe contraption" and spent the first few minutes swerving madly down the road. Avoiding a near collision with a garbage can, I managed to gather my wit's about me and quickly glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.

With no one in sight I breathed a sigh of relief and pushed forward, gaining confidence with each pedal. The saying is true, you never forget how to ride a bike.

My ride ended smoother than it began until I got off the bike and couldn't feel my bottom. The tingly sensation that happens when your foot falls asleep, was now located around where I had been sitting on the bike. Bike seats are not known for their comfort, and I knew there was no way I was going to be a dedicated rider with the constant pain in my backside.

Our former editor informed me about some riding shorts and her advice led me to the bike shop to purchase what I have dubbed my "puffy butt pants." These pants are every girl's nightmare. Black spandex shorts with a thick foam pad shaped like a bike seat sewn into them. If your bottom ever needed a boost these would be for you, plus the bonus feature of a waddle in your walk. Definitely not sexy, but I would like to give a shout to "puffy butt pants" designers everywhere. My butt thanks you!

At the same time I purchased the "puffy butt pants," I also bought a helmet. Everyone knows that women are sensitive about size in pretty much everything. It's just one of those topics you avoid at all costs. I'm no different and after trying on all the cute one-size-fits-all women's helmets, I was told that my head is so big I'd have to wear a men's medium. The surprised look on the bike shop guys face crushed my ever shrinking ego. I left the store with a much lighter wallet, and ducked through the door to make sure my big head made it outside.

A few days later, I went on a ride to try out my new purchases. This ride was yet again another learning experience. I got my first chance to go down a hill, and my first thoughts were "Yes! Finally I get to go fast." As I neared warp speed halfway down the hill I ate my first bug, and a few feet later a bird of a bug took out my eye. Blinking madly, and with tears streaming down my face I tried to slow down. Once again I found myself swerving all over the road, and praying that my one good eye would get me safely to the bottom of the hill.

To my surprise I lived to tell the story.

I have a new found respect for bikers. Especially ones like Lance Armstrong who has managed to win seven Tour de France competitions, and all who choose to ride several miles a day. You all bring a new meaning to buns of steel.

All my biking experiences have been character building. There have been many times when I have looked skyward with a smile and asked, "Don't I have enough character yet?"

The answer always appears to be no.

I'm riding more and more and have found it to be enjoyable. Maybe some day I'll love it, but for now the farm girl in me still loves "bikes."

Jonda Pingetzer is the chief designer of the Columbia Basin Herald and resident Tour de France cyclist in training.