Not My Bike

Two years ago, our sweet children surprised Jerry and I with cool beach cruisers.  (I think they were embarrassed that we were riding around on our rusty old beaten up bikes.  One was our son's and the other was an outdated yellow.)  Besides, they didn't match. Ha!  So, on Christmas morning, we were totally surprised with the coolest fat tire bikes.  Mine was hippy bright orange with flowers all over it, and Jerry's was a beautiful shiny blue and extra tall for him. This morning, I cleaned all the bikes, pumped the tires, polished the fenders and got them ready for summer.  We still have an old bike that was our son's.  In it's day, it was a really, really, fabulous bike that he had especially built with all it's gears, special tires, and light weight frame.  That bike has seen it's day, and has broken cables now, but I had new tires put on it in case we needed extras when we have visitors.  Now,  I don't know what the deal is, but Jerry insists that he doesn't have a bike.  I think he thinks his blue bike is "sub par".  I mean it doesn't have gears, ya know.  (Neither does mine.)

It totally amazes me that Jerry can ride a bike, but can't button his pants.  Anyway, while pumping up the tires to his blue bike, he kept bringing me our son's old bike.  I kept reminding him that that bike doesn't work and would show him the blue bike.  I suggested, "take the blue bike and test if out."  He reluctantly got on the bike and road it about 20 feet then circled back to me.  He said, "I don't have a bike."  Grrrrrrr!  "What are you on?  That's your bike."  Catching myself before I began to try to explain, (remember, we don't argue with dementia people.) I just finished up servicing all the bikes and rode on out the driveway.  Knowing he would follow me, I just kept on riding.    Funny.  I looked back and there he was on the old yellow bike.  Poor old blue was left in the garage.  WHATEVER!