Consciously Incompetent Tricycling: Part II

The saga continues. I waited for next Sunday and light traffic to hone my tricycling skills, but  there was a three-day event in the plaza and the streets were jammed with cars the entire weekend. Sigh. Patience, Lynn. 

The next Sunday brought driving, drenching rain nearly all day long. Gotta keep that battery dry, so the trike sat safely on my porch. I did learn that in order to keep the cover from being blown away I had to roll the tires over the bottom edges of it.

I had written my first tricycle blog and wanted to get it published, but I needed pictures for it. Linda came Thursday this week and was commissioned as a photographer. She looked me over, went to my clothes rack, and brought me a cyan blouse. “Put that on so you’ll match,” she demanded. 

She chose the cul-de-sac right in front of my house with the ocean as a backdrop. I sat there patiently on my trike and she took photos. But I hadn’t been out on it in nearly three weeks; impatience won. When the photo shoot was over, I twisted the throttle and took off right onto the main street with all the traffic. New discovery—when there is a street full of cars, no one moves fast. I fit right in.

I wanted to know if I could safely drive to the laundromat on my three-wheeled Cyan. I had earlier scouted on foot to a place to turn around that was only minimally scary. So I boldly went, but instead of turning around, I turned right. That should have been the direction to take me home, but it wasn’t. I found myself in a quiet residential district with lots of trees and flowers, fairly smooth roads, and little traffic. I kept on keeping on, knowing the ocean was on my right and home had to be that way. I wandered for a long while and came home elated! I had done it! I had ridden my trike in traffic to a place I needed to be able to get to and then had a pleasant drive.

So the next day, Friday, I satisfied a two-year goal and drove to the fruit and veggie truck that comes to the island on Tuesday and Friday mornings. I had texted my friend, Francesca, for directions, and she sent me the kind women like, full of landmarks I would pass, to help me stay confident I was going the right way, along with three maps, one with the route delineated in marking pen.

The goal, I’ve been told frequently, is to get to the truck early, so I was up with the birds—roosters, that is, the third shift—and I got on the trike and followed the motto I had learned to live by as a ballroom dance teacher: fake it until you make it.

Up the main street, right turn onto the main highway, take deep breaths, and pray as the speedometer passes 18 MPH, pass Mama Mia’s, the Post Office, the projects, two more gas stations, and make a left at La Gran Parada with the big sign. And there it was. 

Under the canopy I found an overwhelming abundance of fresh green vegetables in a huge variety, crisp and edible and fresh—so tempting. Did I mention that they were fresh? I’ve eaten almost no green vegetables since I moved here, a little iceberg lettuce from time to time, but that has no nutritional value and doesn’t count.

The woman in front of me in line was chatty. “My husband is in the car. If I let him shop here, he would buy all of this—and then I’d have to cook it.” That was exactly my dilemma. I haven’t found produce worth cooking since I moved to the pueblo and stopped paying $30 a week to take taxies to and from that truck, so I’ve basically stopped preparing food altogether. I eat out once a day and have a handful of nuts for a second meal. And I take a lot of vitamins.

I had no idea of what to do with all that profusion of healthy produce in huge bunches, so I bought some blueberries. I’ll keep thinking about vegetables. A lifestyle change will be joyously welcomed, but it needs planning, it also needs some tiny pans that will fit my miniature stove and daily cooking as there is little room in the freezer. All the veggies were sold in bundles, no option to buy only as much as I wanted; each bundle would serve six or eight people. I may have to eat the “vegetable of the week.”

I went home, put the blueberries in the fridge, grabbed my computer and craft bags, and drove to D’Frozz for breakfast. I had to go around the block twice to find a parking place. I parked, went in, took off my helmet, looked at it, thought for a moment and walked back out. This time I put the cable lock on the trike and stowed my helmet in the back carrier. 

After breakfast, I took Cyan to Mama Mia for the Friday Craft Circle. All was well until I began to turn right to go up the hill to park. That corner was too acute; the road was filled with deep holes between lumpy patches, and it was steeply cambered. As I started the turn and fell into the first hole, and the trike canted dangerously to the right, panic struck, that same panic I had felt on my first ride. I jumped off and stood beside the trike, panting, as my heart rate slowly normalized. But Archangel Michael was with me, or perhaps some of my elemental friends intervened, because just as I had caught my breath, the car parked at the curb straight ahead, no turn needed, pulled out into traffic and drove away. I quickly claimed the place. Whew!

As I explained to my friends while we ate and chatted and neglected our crafts, I had gained four skills: I could apply the brakes, I could use the throttle, I could turn the wheel in the direction I wanted to go, and I could stay on the trike without falling off! But I had much to learn—pedaling while shifting seven gears, for instance, not to mention the power assist mode.

Sadly, while navigating home from Mama Mia’s, the panic returned. I had no sense of balance, steering was hard, and I scarcely dared to twist the throttle. The only skill I retained was stopping. Earlier I had thought that this would be my day to drive right up the ramp and onto my porch, but that can’t be done through fear. Fortunately, my five-foot tall, 90-pound landlady drove by, stopped her car in the middle of the road, got out, and helped me push. Thank God for friends!

The forecast had been for 0% precipitation all day. As I flung the cover over my trike, the rain started. It takes a while to drape the cover correctly and more time to ensure all three tires are holding down edges and the parking brake is set—I got pretty wet, but I kept the battery dry!