The other woman

Yesterday morning I wouldn't have seen this coming, judging by my ride in, but I do believe there may be another woman in my life - at least in the cycling sense. Just as many male cyclists reading this would probably prefer to think of the vehicle that they straddle every day as being a member of the opposite sex (though not in the 'odd Scottish guy in a hotel room' kind of way), I too would prefer to think of mine as a compatible companion for my own preferences. However, there is no denying that the Raleigh cruiser, my current ride, is a lady (insert Tom Jones doing a lusty 'whoa whoa whoa' here).

While I haven't gone so far as to give her a name of any sort in the few years she has been in my possession, I can't help but to really appreciate her generously-curvy design, little details that perk up her brown, rusty appearance, and the feeling of grace that I get when I'm out with her. I feel like I need to be wearing a long Victorian dress with a ridiculously big hat covering an equally-ridiculously big hairdo; I don't think I will ever be able to ride a step-through without this mental image.

At any rate, after a couple more rides with her, I feel like I should keep her around for the winter as my work horse. I can't deny that there are certain places that she is able to go that my usual ride wouldn't. I can rely on her weight and fatter tires to carry me over slush piles and accumulations of rock salt without the slightest fishtail - no small bit of comfort when traveling down one of the busiest lengths of road in the city. I think she and I will carry on this affair until the roads dry out again, the the obstructions and hazards have moved on.

Look at it this way, it really is for my guy's good, isn't it? Keeping him in the basement, safe and dry while I let my lady do all the dirty work, will preserve his paint and keep him from rust, right? I'll keep trying to rationalize this shift in allegiances; until then, I will try not to look like a complete tool hanging out on this dignified lady in winter bike attire, mess bag full of stuff, flashing lights, and a pink helmet.

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