My sweet new husband and I finally found our bike trail. Our first few weeks here, we experimented with various rides in and around Pasadena, as well as along the L.A. "river" (a deep, concrete gully with super steep concrete "banks"), but we couldn't find a ride that was long enough, safe enough, or at all conducive to conversation. Matt spent the whole ride worrying about my safety. And I, well ... I, too, spent the whole ride worrying about my safety. In the absence of dedicated bike lines, neither of us was confident our helmets would protect us from, say, a truck driver with no interest in slowing down for a couple of middle-aged biker s - or a headlong dive into the "river."
One Sunday evening, as we waited for the train at North Hollywood, Matt discovered a giant map under plexiglass that detailed all of the bike trails in L.A. We'd never seen such a map, but I promise, it wasn't for lack of trying. We'd asked the pros at bike shops, we'd queried co-workers who had the biker whiff about them, and we'd even stopped strangers during their own bike rides. No one referred to such a map, and no one suggested the Rio Hondo. No matter. We found it, and we are happy.
Here's what we like about the Rio Hondo bike trail:
1. It's 34-miles round trip. Good workout.
2. Other than one intersection, there are no cars. None, nada, zippo.
3. We bike side by side the entire ride. Who needs marriage counseling? Three hours of sweaty pedaling keeps our communication about as open as it can possibly get.
4. There's a lovely park near the half way point that makes for a great break. We bust out the trail mix and baby wipes and watch toddlers, dogs, and geese battle it out for the best Sunday sprint. There is nothing as much fun as watching a chihuahua kick a goose's butt.
5. The other bikers don't take themselves too seriously. We see a lot of families out for a Sunday toodle. There are serious roadies, too, but they ding-ding their bells and yell, "On yer left!" It's cool.
Here's what we don't like about the Rio Hondo bike trail:
1. "Rio hondo" means deep river. I don't understand how Californians define river. When I hear the word, I think flowing water, perhaps some trees, maybe a bed of rocks with water burbling over and through it and the sun glinting off the surface, even a fish or two to liven up the action. Well, here in the great state of California (or, at least the L.A. part), "river" seems to mean "miles and miles of deep concrete lined with stray shopping carts, abandoned baby strollers, and pigeon poo." And these miles and miles of concrete have no guard rail. So I spend the first 20 minutes or so of our ride trying desperately not to picture either of us pitching down the banks of the Rio Hondo, leaving important body parts along the way. After a while, I relax and enjoy the ride. Really, I do.
2. The shooting range. Nope, not such a big fan of the shooting range.
3. There's a long stretch of ride that takes us through sections of the city that make me sad. We see freshly tarred over graffiti, men gathered around picnic tables holding near empty bottles of cheap beer, and a ratty chicken farm that we can hear (and smell!) from a half mile away.
4. A hill I affectionately call Mr. Nasty. It's smack in the middle of our ride. It looks friendly enough, and I swear, I've tackled more intense ones. But about half way up this sucker, I feel like my lungs might actually come out of my nose. The ONLY reason I keep going is that finishing it impresses my husband. And I love to impress my husband.
Now ... onto Rio Hondo - Parte Dos
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