Our jogging stroller never knew what it was getting into when we bought it.
Red, bought on craigslist, originally sold by a bike shop in a college town well north of the Mason-Dixon line. Probably enjoyed several years of light use with small, light kids. The seller included two sheets of paper with it. One was a page of the manual giving an absolute weight limit of 100 pounds. The other was another page from a different owner’s manual with the same warning, but with a limit of 150 pounds.
Today the stroller carried:
- 2 kids, approx. 50 pounds each, with heads brushing against the cloth canopy designed to protect them from the sun. No problem, the canopy rolls back, and we can always wear hats. Problem solved.
- 3 water bottles, full
- 4 granola bars. “Stroller Snack!”
- 1 small doll, on Carmen’s side
- 1 small stuffed monkey, on David’s side
- 1 bike lock, with key, just in case we need to stop
- Enough money to take the bus home, just in case
- Map of city, in case we venture further than we thought
- Camera bag, including two lenses and lots of doodads. An extra granola bar in it somewhere, because you can never have too much snackage
Ignorance is sometimes the better part of bliss, and I purposely shy away from taking a real inventory of the weight involved. On a nice flat road, not too bad. Going uphill, yeah, it’s a lot of pounds. But 11 miles later, its still going strong; the glass on the street did not puncture the tires, the many curbs did not rattle the frame, and the storage pocket did not give way. Yet.