The bike comes out tomorrow.
"In his new bike shoes," Dean added.
The bike was a trophy from a time when Dean's budget contained more expendable income.
The last 200 miles of the bus ride traversed the first three days of the bike tour route after which the tour would turn north and enter the really tough mountain portions of the trek.
Yeah, he was on a bike but it wasn't electric.
Time to go back to keeping the county safe, 'from speeders and bike nappers'.
He continued testing the tension on his bike chain, wiping the grease on a paper napkin.
I told him we were trying to trace the electric bike by its model but asked about checking hospitals.
It started as a geezer bike for retirees in Florida and Arizona.
The shirt's from the Ride the Rockies bike tour.
Instead he mounted his bike and began the long climb up the hill, killing time before his Thursday night date.
I picked it up in a garage sale, for two dollars—with a bike tire patch kit tossed in.
Dean remembered the Ride the Rockies bike tour, when he had fallen, nearly killing himself, but put his bruised and cut body back on a bike, just to finish.
He began perusing a fat envelope of Midwest travel information secured for his July Iowa bike tour.
He buys the bike in Scranton or someplace up north and stashes it in the trunk of his company car, dropping the tire patch kit.
I've got the name of a sex offender who bought a Volt Wheel electric bike in Oxnard, California.
Hoisting the lightweight bike to his shoulders, he walked to the paved Main Street before mounting.
But he doesn't really need bike shoes unless he plans to bike a long distance.
Because he parked the motor home in some campground near Norfolk, then transferred the bike to his car, stashed the bike somewhere down the beach and used it the next morning, like you said, to get back to the motor home.
He always wanted to bike in the mountains but we had trouble enough funding two weeks vacation on the Jersey shore with the Rileys.
No plate on the bike but it said, Volt-Wheel, for a brand name.
Given more time, he'd have preferred to put the bike on the car's rack and chew up some countryside miles, touring the hills and farm lands that surrounded Parkside.
I've been meaning to get my bike fixed too.
So where are the bike shoes now?
So why haul the bike in the car and not the motor home?
In spite of the cloudy weather and the threat of rain, Dean ended the daylight hours listening to the hum of his bike tires on the country roads west of Parkside.
Crouched astride a bike was a great place to think and he surely needed training with his July week in Iowa getting closer all the time.
He shifted his bike into high gear as he began a long downhill, building speed, anxious to get home.
The story described an annual one-week bike tour of the Colorado Rockies and the address for information was circled and underlined.
"Tell me about this 'Ride the Rockies' bike tour," Fred said as he scribbled notes.
Some of the days, you only bike 40 or 50 miles but on others you do 80 or 90.
After a series of phone calls to Denver and some monstrous lies, Dean managed to finagle a slot on the bike tour, not an easy accomplishment given the short time before the popular event.
He can't drive the truck and ride his bike at the same time.
If you're right and he's actually in this here bike ride, we've got seven days to find him.
The two bikers had started down a slight but long downhill, less than a bike length apart, picking up speed as they rolled along.
"Maybe I can trace his electric bike," Betsy said.
Both were as anxious as I to hear the results of Howie's attempt to visit the Vermont bike-riding peeping Tom.
His bike awaited, but when he divided the hundred promised miles a week by seven, the number was daunting.
An hour later, she dismounted her bike and leaned it against the brick front of the art gallery where her work was displayed.
When I rode the Ride the Rockies bike tour, I was proud as punch when I finished it.
Your very good friend Sheriff Weller is busy chasing speeders and bike-nappers.
Dean moved to assist her after setting his bike against the porch.
Dean once suggested a bike ride in the country.
"Nice bike," Dean said as he stuck out his hand.
When Dean pulled in the drive at Maid Marian Lane, Randy was walking a bike into the open garage.
With his silver pride and joy secured to the bike rack, a spare change of clothes and rain gear in his pannier and some fruit and crackers for a snack, he rolled away from town to the peace and quiet of the countryside.
Earlier he'd signed up to take his July vacation in Iowa, biking the 400 miles across that state on a seven-day bike tour known as "RAGBRAI," named for the sponsoring Des Moines Register newspaper.
He dug change out of his bike bag and dialed his number but he might as well have saved his time.
It was for a pair of bike shoes.
He hides the bike on the beach, maybe with some clothes.
So where does he bike to?
He's barefoot after he leaves his shoes on the beach and needs some kind of footwear so he might as well get bike shoes; after all, he's biking.
"Jeff and I used to bike a lot when Randy was just an infant," she reminisced, as she rested in the shade of a giant maple.
How are you going to get in this here bike ride?
This bike trip was going to stretch things tighter than his pre-training belt.
But with a bike there's nothing I can attach to.
This detective stuff comes roaring back after an absence—like bike riding and swimming.
Dean set his bike down and joined Franny in her car as she continued.
And don't forget the matter of the bike shoes.
They had considered showing Jeffrey Byrne's picture to some of the bike tour workers, especially those volunteers manning the frequent rest stops where every biker would pass sooner or later.
"What kind of physical shape do you suppose Byrne is in?" asked Fred as he eyed a gorgeous blonde in scarlet bike pants.
Dean smiled as the two walked away and then gingerly mounted his bike, renewing a few aches and minor pains.