I was in the bike shop signing the credit card thing when I looked up and Jan was gone. I mean, gonzo! I walked my tall bike out toward the street and stood on the curb looking. Nothing but cars. Bumper to bumper. I was just starting to think oh well I’ll turn this thing in and take a taxi back to the hotel, when I heard a whoop from behind me. I guided my bike toward the sound, and there was Jan. She was doing figure- eights between the cars in a parking garage. “Whoohooh!” she called out.
What? Was this the gal who said, “I haven’t been on a bike in years?” Her face was flushed and her hair all stick-out; and her mouth was one big amazing grin.
What the hell was going on? This was the roommate who had, only a few hours ago, been lounging on her bed in the hotel, letting me believe she was doing me a favor by agreeing to go for a f___’in bike ride. She had turned into some kind of alter-ego. She appeared to be some person highly skilled in motocross or mountain biking. Were wheelies next? As I stood staring, she zipped by. “C’mon!” she said. EEEEK EEEK, the Donald Duck horn on her bike shrilled as she zipped by.
I wobbled my way forward and looked at the busy street full of traffic. I looked down and saw that the pavement was dicey as well: a mixture of rough pavers, cobblestones, and cracks. I was overcome with dueling thoughts of OMG and dammit-you-can-do this. But, Jan was unfazed. Smiling her big smile, she said, “This takes me back. I forgot. I loved biking. In Cambridge. In school. I rode everywhere!” My jaw dropped, but there was no time to comment because Jan was already nosing her way through traffic. She was saying something over her shoulder but her words were faint as they wafted back to me. So, I mounted my rusty steed and surged forward. Struggling to stay upright, I made my way through the cars and was relieved to spot Jan’s rear end riding high as she bounced our way over the cobblestones.
Soon, we threaded our way through traffic and over a crowded bridge. Pedestrians were no problem. They leapt out of Jan’s way, and I followed in her jet stream. The EEEK EEEK of the duck horn was a attention-getter. Jan had been right! A horn really was essential
I was starting to feel pretty good about myself and eyeball the lovely old buildings of Prague, when I looked up and Jan’s rump was nowhere in sight. I dismounted and looked each direction. Then I saw her. Leaning on a juice stand at the bottom of a hill, sipping something through a straw. Looking up, she saw me and pointed. Yes, there was the river. Our destination. It was serene, with boats paddling about and people basking in the sun. Gritting my teeth and squinting, I zipped down the hill, gripping the handbrakes all the way. Once at the bottom, I pulled up next to a bench, dismounted, and sat down. My legs were quivering and my mouth dry. “Beer?” Jan asked. She read my mind. Soon, after a few slurps, I was getting my courage back. Then, Jan looked at her watch. ” The bike shop closes in 30 minutes!”
I suggested we find a taxi and put the bikes in the trunk. Jan pointed out that we would still need to get up that hill. So, we pedaled our way up the hill and looked around. Suddenly, a large bike tour appeared, with a leader that stopped cars with just one gesture. Jan cocked her head, took off, and bulled her way into the herd. What could I do but follow suit, even though the bikers were scowling and trying to shoo us away. Luckily, I didn’t speak their language. Hey, those people could ride fast. Really fast.
In no time, we saw the bike shop and peeled off. The kid was standing in the doorway. His mouth was agape with awe. He gave a slight bow when he handed us our deposit.
As for us, we strutted away and never looked back.
Our reward!
Southern Belle Goes AWOL 