I got a new (to me) bike to replace my Schwinn (affectionately named Schwinn "The Tank" McSchwinnster). I need something I can weigh down and haul groceries, you know? And also ride to lobby visits in a skirt and look classy. This bike is pretty classy. (Yes, photos will be forthcoming -- she looks like this but blue.)
So anyway I rode this bicicleta to work today so that I can fix it up after work using tools that are not mine. I don't have tools. I have a stupid adjustable wrench and all I want is a set of flat wrenches... So mom, Christmas? Christmas is so far away.
Anyway, I was riding the bike to work and I kept thinking of the Motobecane as "she." I've never felt that way with my Raleigh. Never had a desire to name it, never personified it in my head. Then I started waxing poetic while biking past the patch of prairie on the Metro Branch Trail as I considered my two bikes. See here's the thing: the Raleigh is a machine. It's light and responsive and when I ride it, it's really mostly about me. My Motobecane, she is a blues singer. She's all soul. When I ride her (yeah, getting a little dirty...), it's all about her. I bow down to you, you beautiful French coquette. Keep doing like you do.
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