I love you. I know I’m a little off my game this spring and that usually I’ve taken you out of the bike Cabana a long time before now. (Note to self: Don’t forget to buy a hanging basket of Bacopa to hang on the bike Cabana so you can call it “The Bacopa Cabana” all summer long. No matter what Joe says, that never stops being funny.)
This morning, as I washed your shiny red frame, I reflected on what a good summer we are going to have. I love driving you around the city, and I harbour a special fondness for riding you to the village, buying bread, wine and flowers and then riding home through the tree lined streets. It makes me feel fit, healthy, environmentally clever and to be completely honest….pretty good looking.
I’ll put my knitting in the basket and we’ll ride to the market and spend summer evenings knitting on the stoop at Lettuce Knit. We’ll go to the bookstore and through the park and I’ll blow right by all of those people stuck in traffic, the wind in my hair, and sunshine glinting off your (slightly bent from the time that I sort of rode into that really deep ditch in PEI) spokes.
Sometimes we’ll come back at night time from the other side of the city, and I’ll take College Street through Little Italy, with all the trendy people drinking on the patio at The Dip, and all the twinkle lights in the trees lit up over my head. I’ll never run out of gas (as long as we don’t count that wicked hill over by Casa Loma) and all my travel will be free for the next three months, and not paying any bus fare really frees up the yarn money. Riding is going to be so much fun that I won’t even really miss the TTC bus/subway knitting time.
What I like best, my sweet little ride, is that you grant me freedom to avoid engaging in the crush of humanity on the subway – like last night, when I was knitting my new sock
New sock. Plain vanilla pattern, Frobe Fibers sock yarn, colour “Random Tuesday”
…and this guy, who was as malodorous as he was insane, leant over my left shoulder and told me, loudly and with great ferocity, that I should stop knitting now while I was young, or else my intellect would be “used up and worthless” before I was 50. He advised me that there are limits, and I was going to exceed them.
(At least he thought I was a) young, and b) doing something that required intellect.) In response, I told him not to worry. That I had intellect to spare on knitting.
His response? He told me that there are birds trying to lay eggs in peoples hair in the Bathurst subway station.
Good tip. I’ll be on my bike.