Nude Bike Ride/ Dinner Show

I’ve used bicycles for a great many things. I used one for delivering newspapers. I used one to test my theory of flight. I currently ride an e-bike eleven miles each way to the gym. There are also a few things that I haven’t used the bicycle for . . . because blasted Cheryl put her foot down.

June 6th is traditionally cool with the chance of rain in my town of Bellingham. I remember June 6th well, because my wife reminds me that it is my daughter Kalene’s birthday.

“This Saturday is Kalene’s birthday.”

“What?”

“Kalene, your daughter. It’s her birthday.”

“She was born in June?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. You were there.”

“Wait, it’s coming to me now. Red, slimy, dried apple head, I thought I had a boy until the nurse flipped her over and showed me I didn’t. She was born in June?”

“You have four kids. Do you know any of their birthdays?”

“Is that my responsibility? I’ve got a great mind for dates.”

“You lost your mind the same year you lost your hair. Her birthday is this Saturday.”

“Thank you, my little love cactus. This Saturday it is.”

I’ve been meaning to get my office door fixed so I can shut it to block out annoying reminders about birthdays.

“By the way, do you have any suggestions?” I ask, hoping the answer won’t be too painful.

“Let’s take her out to dinner. It’s a birthday present which is nearly impossible to screw up.”

Perhaps she was referring to the ice cream cake I picked up last year and forgot about in the trunk of my car.

“Got it dear. Let me just make a note on my calendar. Which daughter again?”

“Kalene! Sheesh!”

To my credit, and so I wouldn’t forget, I immediately launched into a search for the perfect birthday restaurant.

“Thinking, thinking, thinking, what does Kalene like to eat that doesn’t come in a paper wrapper? Something with a little class.”

I did what I usually do when taking Cheryl out to dinner. I went through the alphabet.

“Applebee’s, Boundary Bay Brewery, Cascade Pizza, Dairy Queen (Stop it, you’re digressing, idiot!) D’Anna’s Cafe Italiano . . .  That’s it! Great Italian food with a touch of class. This will be my greatest birthday surprise yet!”

“You’ll be happy to know that I’ve chosen a restaurant, dear,” I yelled down the stairs.

“Which one? You better run it by me.”

“Never you mind my little trusting soul. I have it all taken care of. Yes sir, this will be a good one.”

Saturday, June 6th, Cheryl and I drove over in the afternoon to pick up Kalene.

“I hope you two are hungry. Mom and I are taking you out to D’Anna’s for dinner.

“I love D’Anna’s, dad. This will be fun.”

“Score,” I thought to myself.

As we drove down State Street there appeared to be more traffic in town than normal, and the sidewalks were busy with pedestrians.

“Must be a street festival today,” I commented.

After finding a parking spot, we walked to D’Anna’s. The hostess placed us at a large table next to the window overlooking the street and sidewalk.

“Order what you want since I’m sure that this will probably be your best birthday ever,” I said with pride.

The food came surprisingly quickly and as we ate more and more people stood outside on the sidewalk looking down the street. Then they started cheering and clapping.

“What’s going on out there?” I asked a passing waitress.

“Oh, tonight is the annual Nude Bike Ride parade,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

I heard Cheryl’s fork drop to the floor.

“Marty!”

“Dad!”

And here they came, down the street, right past our window.

“Marty, no!”

I must admit that some of the body art was creative and there were bodies of all shapes and colors. There were plenty of men and women. They rode by slowly, maybe over 100 in number. It seemed like it took over 20 minutes. One poor fellow had a flat tire, so he was pushing his bicycle down the sidewalk. He stopped in front of our window and looked inside at what was still on our plates. Rubbing his bare stomach and making a look on his face like he was thinking, yummy, he waved. Not to be impolite we all waved back. I could have sworn I saw Cheryl look down a bit below his belly.

And then they were gone. It was quiet at our table. Cheryl asked the waitress for another fork.

“Well, were you surprised Kalene?” I asked. “I think I outdid myself this year. Afterall, how often do you get dinner . . . and a show?”

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