How long would you hold a grudge?

For someone using your “taco” haircut as a mustache?

Or…for missing a turn on a bike ride, going a bit out of your way, up a pretty significant hill, while temperatures are rising?  

We had the chance this weekend to examine ourselves around that question and answer.

Catherine said to me that she was glad she was driving the “support” car, because the hill would have “broken” her (we’re down with the Tour de France lingo).  As it turned out, her car’s GPS system helped us realize where we needed to be (and carried a lot of extra Gatorade). And where we needed to be was on a street that was about 30 yards after the last winery we were at.

It was a completely honest mistake, where the sign notifying you of the street coming up was probaby before the winery. And we were focused on finding the winery. Instead of looking for the street sign for the next winery. I mean, who thinks two wineries ahead?

So when we were leaving that winery, there was no sign notifying us that the next street was indeed the street we wanted to turn on. So we just went on. As luck would have it, on meant up a little hill, which lead to a little bigger hill,  but gave way to a bit of a downhill, to get a nice breeze going (and which, on the way back, would surprise you at how it seems a much bigger uphill than a downhill) and then lead to another cute little hilly-hill-hill which levelled out and then turned the corner to a slightly larger hill, but that eased up and then transitioned into a serious hill. (There are little flickr notes on the image that show the where’s of this story a bit better…click on it.)

The car GPS bailed us out. I was about ready to crack and didn’t mind the stop to get our bearings. But I feared that we were going the right way and that I’d have to try and start pulling me and Sal up the hill again from a stop. Not that I was going that fast…I was really dreading the hill more than the “from a stop” idea.  But I was playing mind games with myself to make coping with the possible truth a bit easier.

Catherine said later that since she wasn’t on the bike ride and therefore didn’t get broken by the hill, she was able to joke about the incident with the trip leader. I asked if she was on the ride, would she be able to joke about it? Silence.  I waited. More silence. So I offered up – “Or would [the leader] be dead to you?”  Solemn nodding.  Then a big grin from her and she said “Good thing I wasn’t riding a bike!”

Out trip leader was a bit surprised at how pleasant people were about the little mistake. I think it might just be a genuinely polite crowd we were in. So – just to clear the air – and give a little better perspective on things – if you had this type of mistake made on a trip you were on, given that it was an honest mistake – but also that it was quite a bit of crazy exertion as the sun was busting through – how would you feel?