This is my rattly, rustraption bicycle. I bought it for a hundred dollars off of Craigslist. It was made by a company, that has a sort of faded coat of arms decal-ed on it’s chest, Norman of England. It ticks, and creaks and people wonder what’s coming to get them when I approach from behind.
But it’s perfect for me. Old enough that people don’t try to steal it. A faded glory that reminds me… ahem, of myself. And, it glides. In all it’s one-speed majesty I cruise along- fast enough that I feel ten-years-old again, and slow enough so that I don’t kill myself.
So this morning I decided to take a ride. The poor old girl’s been neglected mostly all summer. I had to push it to the Town Pump up the street because our dog Hildegard chewed the end off our bike pump. I brought four quarters for the task. Like a pro I shot the air in my tires until firm and took off gliding.
‘Excuse me!’ I called, coming up on and then passing various startled passerby. On my ride I passed a gaggle of geese in the high school baseball yard, a litter of puppies being trained by their owners at the park, and our local herd of elk absorbing the last bit of mist in the vast fields before you reach North Bend.
I love living in Snoqualmie.