First, she was motivated to master the Trikke, despite the fact it was quite the challenge. Then, after our readers came to her rescue, she finally began to get the hang of this thing called carving. Nearly two months later, how’s she doing? We’ll let Sue Thompson tell you in her own words:
The word “serendipity” means making desirable discoveries by accident. I love it when serendipity happens. For example: I’m contacted to write an article about my Trikke riding experience for this magazine.
For the past two years, I’ve found riding frustrating but I have forged on for the promise of finding the sweet spot and, in spite of difficulties, I still find riding enjoyable. I’m told that a couple of photos of me on my Trikke would be an enhancement. I submit the article and the photos, and they are posted. Within a few hours, two very observant trainers note that I am riding with my front wheel and handlebars turned around backward. I make the fix as instructed, step on the vehicle, and find that in comparison to my previous experience, I can fly.
The joy of that discovery, of the correction of a simple mistake, has been one of the best things that ever happened to me. I don’t mean to equate it to a spectacular life event, but here’s the thing: the realization that one small adjustment can lead to consistent joy is a gift — and I’ve been delighting in the gift ever since!
I have been out on my Trikke every single day, with exceptions for the extreme heat we’re experiencing here in the East (although I try to get up early and get out before it’s unbearable).
Some days, I ride for two hours. I go on evening rides, passing curious deer standing at the edge of a forested area, and feel so exhilarated by the knowledge that even though my isolation kept me ignorant, a helpful community set me free to enjoy this fantastic piece of equipment. I push my way up a slight incline! I make it up a small hill! Slowly, yes, but consistently.
Some inclines are still currently insurmountable, but the fact that I get going from a complete stop on a flat road makes me feel like Rocky Balboa, bounding to the top of the stairs of the Philadelphia Museum of Art and doing a dance of triumph, because I could not do this before and I wondered what was wrong with me. I didn’t think there might be something wrong with how my Trikke had been assembled. It had to be klutzy, uncoordinated me.
I am so hooked on this thing that I have become an ambassador to the neighborhoods. People stop their cars and trucks and ask, “What is that thing?” Folks on bikes call out, “How do you get up a hill?” and I respond, “With difficulty, but what a workout!” I may be tired or feel a desire to stay sedentary for the day, but the moment I step on my Trikke, I am inspired anew and so glad I got my act together for another ride. I love riding my Trikke!
Serendipity. It’s a beautiful thing.