Per Gemini:

What a truly lovely day it was! With the sun shining and a brisk northwest wind carrying the faintest promise of spring – even a hint of green returning to the fields – the conditions were simply begging to be enjoyed. And that’s precisely what happened. Now, being a septuagenarian, my “grand” adventures might not involve scaling mountains or traversing continents, but within my comfortable range, it truly felt like a day brimming with possibility!

Waking up this morning, still pleasantly relaxed from yesterday’s unexpected indulgence, felt surprisingly appealing. There was none of that lingering in bed, no brooding à la Camus. Instead, I felt a genuine pull towards the scene of my recent acquisition. So, after a swift morning routine, I dressed and eagerly headed to the garage to properly examine my new tricycle, my thoughts having turned it over in my mind overnight.

Ah yes, Beckett and Camus. Their connection, though perhaps not deeply personal, was certainly within the realm of possibility. Both spent significant time in Paris, Beckett for the majority of his adult life, and both were known to frequent the literary ambiance of the Pont Royal Hotel. And Camus, that leading voice of Existentialism post-war, is often seen as a precursor to the Theatre of the Absurd, a movement to which Beckett, along with the likes of Pinter and Stoppard, undeniably belonged. Given Beckett’s intellectual curiosity, it’s highly likely he would have encountered Camus’ “The Myth of Sisyphus,” a work that would have been widely discussed among educated circles in 1950s France.

Back to the matter at hand, my shiny red tricycle sat gleaming under the garage light – or “the cage,” as we’ve affectionately dubbed its parking spot. After maneuvering it out, my attention turned to the battery key. I tested its various settings – On, Off, Push Unlock. We’d already removed the spare key from the fob and tucked it away safely in a drawer upstairs, a precaution for future needs. We decided it wise to keep one key attached to the battery, making it easy to unlock and remove for independent charging when the time comes. For now, the automatic display indicated a full charge. From what I gather about these electric devices, the wisdom is to let the battery run down before recharging. So, the functionality of the charger, nestled in a bag in the cage along with a helmet, lock, and the yet-to-be-used rear basket cover, will have to wait for another day’s exploration.

Finally, I was ready to roll! I synchronized the odometer on both the tricycle and my Apple Watch, intending to compare the data later, and off I went. Initially, I resisted the urge to use the electric assist, except for the initial push up the incline from the garage to the street. My main goal remained gentle exercise. The new trike performed admirably. I engaged the electric boost to conquer Gale Street and reach the plateau near Van Dusen Street, but from then on, as I meandered along Johanna Street and past the hospital’s helicopter pad, it was all good old-fashioned pedal power. Interestingly, this new tricycle felt more manageable than the previous one; the pedaling seemed easier, and it held its momentum more readily. While the glorious weather undoubtedly contributed to the vibrancy of the experience, I can’t deny the positive influence of this atmospheric enhancement. It was likely a happy convergence of good mechanics and good weather.

This local loop covered my usual four kilometers. The reality of having an electric assist is that I don’t instinctively rely on it. Upon returning to the apartment, my legs definitely felt like they’d had a workout. I promptly retreated to the balcony to soak up the morning sunshine, removed my glasses, closed my eyes, and drifted off for a delightful hour-long nap.

But the day’s pleasures weren’t over yet. Around eleven, we left the apartment for a leisurely drive to Stittsville, then Arnprior, and back home through the charming Township of Pakenham. The drive was effortless, the roads smooth and dry, the traffic minimal, and the sun shone brilliantly. Our conversation flowed easily, as it usually does.

The day was so utterly splendid that upon returning home and parking the car, I felt compelled to extend it just a little longer. So, once again, I hopped onto my new tricycle. I’ve come to terms with the fact that tricycling, even with electric assistance, won’t lead to those extended rides along the Ottawa Valley Trail to Rosebank that I might once have envisioned. While the scenery would be lovely, I’m learning to respect my limitations. Equally important is my contentment with a more moderate level of physical activity. I also value staying connected to my local surroundings. Gone are the days of those long solo excursions, like those along the Ottawa River Parkway into the Gatineau Hills, where a flat tire could leave one stranded. That was fifty years ago, a different chapter entirely.

Photo: ChatGPT