I carefully rode off the driveway onto the hilly slope of our neighborhood street waving to everyone and their barking dogs.

Wondering why I decided to ride these hills on a bike when I don’t walk them.

It is quite a feat to navigate a bike when I don’t normally ride at all.

Nor have I ever ridden a bike on any slope and only on flat land.

It is new territory for me riding for the first time in decades.

The feeling of being out of control is the wild ride.

A wild ride of hoping it ends well.

I want to turn around but must follow the hills back around to where I began.

It would only be harder to ride back up the hill or walk it with the bike when it would be much easier to ride it all the way down and around again to our driveway

All the time holding back the screams.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I hear the sound of a car behind me causing me to feel more nervous than the ride itself.

It is following so close that I dare not look back to see who it is or even try to wave them by because of the speed the bike is moving down the hill.

I need to keep looking ahead to be able to turn and stay on the windy road.

The car inches slowly beside me. Almost too close.

I try to catch my breath as the car window is opening on the passenger side.

I cannot believe what I see and feel a mixed sense of relief and surprise to hear my husband’s voice say “pull over.”

My stomach churned inside me. I was shaking from the inside out. It would take all I had in me to hold on and try to slow down. Then, as I looked out a distance, I could see and begin to feel the slope leveling out in front of me.

Feeling relieved, I told myself I could do this.

With sweat running down my back and face, along with sweaty palms, I carefully slowed the bike by putting just the right amount of pressure to break the speed and successfully come to a smooth stop.

A few seconds later the 30-minute timer goes off and peddles me back to the reality of finding myself sitting on my stationary bike in the middle of my living room with the realization of how far imagination can take me on the hilly slopes of our neighborhood with a car dangerously riding my wheels.

The feeling of being out of control is the wild ride.

A wild ride that ended well.

I give out a big sigh. Gather my composure. Walk past my husband straight outside to the patio to sit in my adirondack rocking chair, to rock for awhile, to cool off, and, just breathe!

/lr

•