I love my bike. Since this (very bad quality) photo was taken, it gained a big basket that lives on the front and always sits a little wonky because of all the wires on the handlebars. My bike has charm, personality and gets appreciation everywhere I go.
It was not, however, purchased for its practicality. No. My husband walked into a bike store to buy our then 3 year old his first pedal bike and saw this at the back. When he saw it, he knew I had to own it and even though he had to ring back 3 times before it was ready to be sold, he bought me that bike. That’s love right there.
This photo does not show quite how small the tires of this bike is – they are considerably smaller than you would expect. And oh so very thin. When I first got it I was very careful about going on wet roads and did not fully trust it. With time, I became immune to these concerns and this bike has taken me to many a zumba class and to and from work on a regular basis.
Until Friday. On Friday I was riding to an early morning meeting, just gone over 3 of the 4 major hills on my route when suddenly, just before a junction, I wiped out. Fortunately there were no cars around, and I hate to think what would have happened had I not been wearing a helmet. The hill, the wet road and the bit of gravel were too much for my thin little tires and they gave out. A scraped up leg and damaged shoulder later, I rang my Knights in Shining Armour and they rescued me.
Now i have to face up to some realities. I do not trust my bike. I feel like I *must* get back on a bike, and soon (well as soon as I can raise my right arm without excruciating pain). Among other things, I must demonstrate to my children that falling is not the end of the world. And my little bike is a good bike, just not for me. I need a bike that can deal with country roads, wet weather and hard riding. Unfortunately I do not have the disposable income to spend what such a bike will cost. So I either get back up on that bike (after I beg someone to fix it for me) and trust that it was actually my fault and preventable… or I lose my independence until we can afford a bike that is up to the job.
But all I see when I look out the window is an evening perfect for a sunset ride and a bike that has been offering its owner such rides for over 30 years.