Jeff Kramer and I have been friends since we met on the Western Front, the campus newspaper of Western Washington University.
A decade later, Jeff almost perished in the 1991 riots in Los Angels, working as a stringer. I remember getting my copy of the Boston Globe the next morning wondering if my closest friend had perished overnight. Perhaps he was paralyzed below the belt? That were my musings on that terrible night. Much later, my own health crisis commenced, slowly, almost unperceptively.
On a recent winter day, Jeff and I embarked on a leisurely bike ride. I spent a good deal of time planning how many layers I would need. My spandex tights came first. Then came my padded trunks. My simple goal was to be not too cold, not too warm. Would that be possible? Early on, I was quite comfortable, and I was congratulating myself for taking the time to wear the correct numbers of layers. I had started with my purple Under Armor, a gift from the Alzheimer’s Association. Next came a cotton maroon pullover. After that, I put on my black fleece jacket. For my shell, I was wearing my Seattle Mariners’ warm-up jacket.
A person free of dementia would have had no difficulty to find all the objects that I had needed. Of course, I would bring my phone, and stow it in the spandex pocket that is designed for that purpose. Another must-bring item, of course, was my keys. Without them, I would have no way to secure my bike if we stopped for a break. After my former bike was stolen in 2o15, Jeff bought me a high-quality replacement U-bolt lock.
Whenever I ride, I make a point to be able to feel where my keys are. I also usually bring a Cliff Bar, a compact source of energy. This is more important in the summer, but I was still glad that I had the Cliff bar I took with me. So far, everything was going well. Jeff and I were riding at a leisurely pace in the afternoon sunlight. Early in the day, we thought about riding all the way to Bedford, a 22-mile round trip. When dusk was settling in, Jeff suggested that we stop at the next café.
The difficulties emerged when I had to get off my bike. Even in summer, I sometimes need a minute or two get the correct angle to secure my U-bolt. But in the darkening bitter afternoon wind, I was getting seriously confused. Jeff was asking reasonable questions, but I wasn’t providing cogent replies. I was looking for my reading glasses, but at the moment, my glasses were irrelevant. And I would have been better without them. I might have been better off without them. The frames kept snagging on other objects. But once Jeff led me into the café, I starting thinking logically again. And Jeff made a point of cooling off the beverage before I quaffed it.
We entered a coffee shop. Jeff got me a hot chocolate, with whipped cream. Normally, I try to avoid refined sugar, but on this day I quaffed the warm chocolate as fast as I could. Jeff also made sure that the coca was temperate, not scalding. But other things awaited us. For weeks, I was planning to check my batteries for my bike headlight, but I never got around to it. And I didn’t realize that my red tail light was functioning. All I had do to was to turn it on.
But because I was literally in the dark, I couldn’t see it on top of my helmet. At a CVS on Massachusetts Avenue in Arlington, I waited for Jeff to buy replacement batteries for my bike headlight I stayed out to be with the two bikes. Once we left the store, we picked up speed, thanks to the downward gradient. By now, the sky was inky black. I knew we were not too far from Spy Pond in Arlington. I could see the bike lights in front of us in the dark. I knew the bikepath was far enough away from anyone ending up in the pond. I was confident that the bikepath had enough ambient light to discern other cyclists. I was mistaken. I could discern that the pond was not a hazard. But a few minutes later came the collision. No, better to call it a soft-landing. No one fell over. A male’s voice. Startled, and angry, but not injured. I was already riding toward back to him, to see if he was hurt. He wasn’t. And I was glad that the other rider didn’t make a big thing of the incident.
And if you are planning to ride at dark in winter this year, don’t do what I did. The last thing I wanted to be on my conscience is some stranger’s concussion. Or, perhaps, a lawsuit.