Every non-rainy day we ride the bikes to school and work. There is a routine:
First Rada straps on her knee pads and I unlock the cables and u-locks. After this, we pull the bikes off the porch, put on our helmets, and attach any relevant cargo to the front platform of my bike. We do a final pre-flight check to make sure we’re set to go, and then head off.
We have a route. Rada always goes first. We start off on the sidewalk in front of our house. She stops 15 feet before every intersection. I consider telling her she can stop a bit closer but change my mind.
When we hit the playground we cut over to the path that goes behind the basketball court. This is the best part of the ride: no cars, no walkers, just our bikes and the asphalt river that takes us along.
Towards the end, we hit the sidewalk for one last leg of the journey. She purposefully yells out, “to your left,” to any pedestrians up ahead.
When we get to school, the knee pads are tucked into her backpack. I cable her helmet to her bike on the rack by the school’s back door.
I send her off with a hug and a kiss, get back on my bike and head towards work.