Bike

The bike is out of the shop and back home! What joy - now I can bike downtown to my favorite coffee shop and just ride for the pleasure of it. I don't know if it's just me, but there seems to be a lot more bikes on the roads these days.

Each Saturday I marvel at the number of bikes at the farmers' market and how the ingenious bikers stow their purchases. When the baskets or panniers are full, they turn to a back pack or a quickly purchased cloth market bag to sling over the handle bars. There's been plenty of rhubarb and tomato plants peeking out of baskets in the past couple weeks. I see that and I try to imagine what the rhubarb coffee cake or pie or cake with taste like. And how delicious those tomatoes will be.

BIKES

Been noticing more bikes out and about lately. Not bikes on the bike trail along the lake– out for a spin so to speak. But bikes outfitted for hauling stuff, big basket on the front, rack on the back, and maybe even baskets or panniers on the back. Last week I was enjoying a spot of organic tea at a local coffee shop, just daydreaming, looking out the front window at nothing in particular. A bike goes by, outfitted for hauling. And, within minutes, another. And then, another. All in all 14 bikes went by while I watched from my window perch.

This all made me smile, yes, it did. Also made me anxious to get my bike back from the shop. The 1964 Raleigh Sport needed the spokes tightened, and the shop has lots of business from folks like me who are returning to biking. So I’m on the list, waiting my turn. I miss my bike.

Although I don’t currently own a cruiser, I love the feel of pedaling down the street on one. I had a cruiser as a county raised child. A bike I learned to ride on a cider driveway and tarred roads. Have had lots on cinders picked out of my knees. That bike was incredible, its big balloon tires carried me over field paths, through woods, and down to the local fishing and swimming holes. I could often be found pedaling down the country road with a stringer of blue gills and perch tied to the handle bars, gripping the fishing pole while the tackle box occupied the back rack. I was headed for home, knowing we’d be having fish for supper!