bikes not bombs

Monday, April 30 2007

This weekend I saved an adorable schwinn road bike from a decrepit Play It Again Sports where one of the staff freaks told me he was going to use it for parts. GASP! The bike was out in the open, leaning up against a bunch of bean boards, crying. I took it for a test ride in the parking lot and fell in love. After a quick surgery (the little racing pedals it came with needed to be replaced with normal pedals), it was all mine. I mean…I couldn't just leave him there like that, right? I mean that skinny little employee was going to destroy my cute, lightweight, green-with-red-handlebar bike! rude.

So I'm a biker babe now. I'll be riding in Critical Mass the last Friday of every month, sporting rolled up pants and tights or maybe some crazy-colored tube socks. Fashion AND function, people. I invited my boss to come with and he said, "yeah…I can hang with the freaks, I guess". And I was offended because dude…I am one of them now, you know? Just give me a messenger bag and a note…or maybe a Jimmy John's sandwich….and I'll be off in a jiffy to deliver said items.

Now…I just need to stop screaming in pure fear every time a car passes me on the street.

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