As far as people go, D is my true love.
As far as dogs go, it's Ra.
As far as bikes go- that decision is just too hard. I'm in love with so many bikes, how could I ever choose just one?!
An Ode to Bikes
to the Pea Picker: My beautiful green Schwinn Stingray. Complete with sparkly banana seat, suspension, and shiny streamers. You are the bike I use to ride around the Mission. Because the Mission is flat, and let's face it Pea Picker, you were built to be a tasty treat for the eyes. You were built to cradle my rear. You came into my life to remind me of my first love on wheels when I was a child. But, dear Pea Picker, you were not built for speed or for hills. But that is O.K. my love because you are foxy enough to be saved for Mission riding only. Besides, I have other bikes to tackle the hills or assuage my need for speed. But don't be jealous I do love you so, Pea Picker. You are beauty incarnate. I wear a smile that comes straight outta my bursting heart whenever I ride you.
to the Marin San Rafael: My commuter bike. I ride you almost everyday. And I ride you everywhere. I treat you roughly and still you come through for me. I've equipped you with a rack to which I can attach my panniers. My panniers, which have saved my back and made you into my beast of burden. Yes, I know they look kind of dorky, but I don't even care (well, not that much anyway). My panniers and my rack have made riding you so easy and convenient (even with a shitload of stuff for the gym and for school) that I have no excuse not to ride. Not that I need an excuse to ride you, my reliable friend. I am so much happier when you take me to work. It is so delightful to start my morning with you, rather than the tense, disconnected, aggro, road-ragey feeling I get when I drive the car. Especially in the city. Biking home with you is even better. I get a chance to decompress and by the time we tackle that last hill together I am ready to walk through the door a decent person, ready to be kind and loving. Unlike when I drive and need about 1/2 an hour of me time before I am suitable for human companionship. I love you, you are the best form of transportation there is. Powered by me.
to the Lemond Etape: I don't even know how to pronounce your name. But you are not for pronouncing, you are for riding, so don't feel badly. You are the one that satisfies my speedy urges. When I'm clipped into you, I become a monster charging up the hills. A black and blue streak of joy. I sometimes dream about what we could do together. We got hit and run by a minivan, but you took it like a champ. And I couldn't wait to hop back on you. I know you're not getting as much love as you used to these days, and I want you to know how much it hurts me to see you there, waiting. But I know that will all change soon. I need you as much as you need me, maybe more.
Bicycles=love. It's true. As the Moldy Peaches song says "All I want to do is ride bikes with you...." D and I love to ride around together. Unfortunately his BMX just got stolen, so we have to find another companion for the Pea Picker. Bicycle thieves are the lowest form of life. Take my wallet, snatch a digit if you have to. Steal my car, take the stereo, smash the window, whatever. Just don't rob me of my heart, I mean my bike.
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