Thanks to an airline mix-up, my father and I were stuck in Amsterdam for a couple of days while awaiting an onward flight to a festival in Germany. What to do?

First there was the sightseeing, then there was the obligatory canal cruise and finally came the window gawking in the red light district. The coffee shop might have been next, but at eighty, my father thought it was a bit late in life to ruin a perfect drug test record. So we were now looking for a mini-adventure. We were looking for an eazzzy adventure, yet one that we could never the less brag about when we got back home. We wanted to save our strength for the massive onslaught of alcohol coming our way in Bavaria.

They told me that biking in the Netherlands was like a