Austria: When I Come Back

24 Aug 2011

Lermoos (10 km around the valley)

Now that the blown out shoe is repaired, it occurred to us (well, actually Gina, despite the fact that I am the default bike mechanic, which mostly means that I’m the one who grew up around mechanics so is expected to have some of their skills when in fact I think it was my sister who actually inherited that gene but she’s not here to help so it falls on me to change the flats and stare at the derailleurs and brakes and any other moving parts and spin a few tools around like those guys and their pistols in Old Western movies and pretend I know something about how to make things go right) that we should check the status of Gina’s tire, the one that got sliced four days ago but has been ridden on without repair for over 200 more kilometers.  And oh my, what a surprise to see the interior wall poking through, the slice having tripled in length and width with the weight of the gear and the wear and tear from all those kilometers on bumpy dirt roads.  Time to pedal across the valley and get that tire replaced.  But don’t go between 12 and 2 pm, because all the shops will be closed.

I tell ya, these Europeans know how to live.  Siestas in the middle of the day, minimum 4 weeks vacation and 10-plus official holidays, a Euro that despite their own economic woes continues to outpace the American dollar, safe cycling paths everywhere, and scenery that knows no bounds.  When I come back, I want to be born as a raindrop that falls in the Alps, spills down a granite face, floats down a clear river into a verdant green valley, gets scooped up and poured into a window-box of pink perennials, and gets steamed up under the summer sun into the big blue sky to do it all over again.