A friend of mine found me a $5 bike at a garage sale. It is dirty/rusty, has a squeaky seat and needs new tires.
I love it.
I have now joined the legions on bikes zipping around the city. Well, I go about half the speed of everybody else (because Squeaky doesn’t have more than one speed) and feel like maybe I shouldn’t be in the bike lane.
It’s still awesome because I no longer have to sit on the bus or train next to someone reeking of piss and poison and drinking booze out of a paper bag! I don’t have to wait for the bus to laboriously trundle up to the stop or stand on the platform with a bunch of slightly irritated people craning their necks to see down the track looking for the train as if looking will make it come faster! Now I just have to worry about being hit by a bus… or car… or other bike.
The first day I was able to ride I took Squeaky up to Devon street to get some fried paneer and roti and daal. From Logan Square, that’s 10-12 miles there and back. I am not that athletic by any stretch.
Feeling full of accomplishment and energized by the possibilities for exploring the city without spending money, I sat on the couch to relax a little bit before I took a shower, intending to revel in the loose-limbed-wrung out-absolutely exhausted feeling that sweating in the hot sun and pedaling hard earned me. I must have fallen asleep immediately, because suddenly the room wasn’t as filled with sunlight and I had drool dribbling down my chin and on to my shirt.
Well done me. Bikes are awesome.