My Son and My Road Bike: Growing Up Together

I started riding a road bike when my son was still small.
On my days off, I would maintain my bike and head out for a ride early in the morning. Perhaps because he grew up watching his father do this, my son naturally became interested in bicycles as well.

My first "long ride" with my son was when he was four years old.
Our destination was my wife's parents' house, a distance of about 8 km.
We chose a route with little traffic, with me in front and my wife behind, sandwiching our son securely between us. Looking back, it was quite a grand adventure.
It was a journey that would normally take less than 30 minutes, but with many breaks, it took over two hours to arrive.
Even so, we were surprised and genuinely happy that a kindergartner had managed to ride 8 km under his own power.
When we arrived at my wife's parents' house, my son was over the moon after being praised by his grandparents, who told him, "That's amazing!" and "You did a great job!"
We did have his grandfather drive us back, but that day became an unforgettable one for both father and son.

After that, the opportunities to ride together gradually increased, and the distance we traveled naturally grew longer.
His child's bike eventually became a cross bike, and my son became much more reliable.

When he reached high school, his school and my workplace became close, and we started commuting by bike together almost every day.
Looking back, that time was very precious.
Riding together as father and son, chatting about trivial things.
Such casual moments often end before you know it.
At the time, we were riding on a busy main road.
We were convinced there were no other routes.
However, something strange happened.
A stout man on a city bike, whom we had just overtaken, would appear in front of us again at the next intersection.
And it wasn't just once or twice.
"That shouldn't be possible."
"It must be an illusion."
As we debated this with my son, we eventually started calling the man "Totoro."
One day, we were lucky enough to encounter Totoro early on.
"Let's follow him today."
When we decided to do that, Totoro turned onto a narrow road we didn't know.
He went through a residential area, turned down a small path, and kept going.
And where we ended up was a place we never expected.
"Wait, we're already here?"
My son and I looked at each other in surprise.
Was there such a shortcut?
Since then, we called that legendary shortcut the "Toto-road."
It was a road we relied on almost every day until he graduated and I was transferred.

My son decided to go to university in Kyoto.
In university, a bicycle is a convenient means of transportation.
So, I asked him casually,
"Do you want to take Dad's road bike?"
Deep down, I expected him to say, "I want you to buy me a new one."
However, his reply was a simple "Sure."
It seems my son had ridden my road bike many times before and had admired its lightness and speed.
I was happy.
It was my beloved bike that I had ridden to many places with him over the past 15 years.
Instead of just handing it over, I decided to have it overhauled and send it off in perfect condition.
And I bought myself a new road bike.
My wife gave me a very sour look, as it was a time when expenses were piling up due to his university enrollment, and I had gone and bought another road bike on top of that.
Now, that road bike is riding through the streets of Kyoto.
When I visit my son occasionally, the first thing I worry about is the condition of the road bike.
Is the chain dirty?
Is there enough air in the tires?
Do the gears shift properly?
I find myself worrying about the bike before I worry about my son.
Fortunately, it seems he is taking good care of it.
I feel a little relieved.

Looking back, the road bike brought me not only the joy of speed and traveling far, but also time with my son.
The 8 km we rode when he was four.
Our bike commutes during his high school years.
And the "Toto-road" that only we know about.
Although we live apart now, when I imagine my son riding my road bike somewhere in Kyoto, the distance doesn't feel that far at all.

Thank you, my son.
And I hope you continue to see many more sights with that road bike.