I bought a bicycle.
Like most kids, I used to "ride bikes" with my friends all the time when I was in elementary and middle school. It wasn't just transportation to the my friends' houses. It was fun. I'd ride just for the joy of riding. Oh sure, those rides may have started out as a quarrel between me and my parents or siblings; but they ended with the wind clearing my head and the road giving me time to regroup.
A year or so ago, I was walking through the toy section of a store and the bike racks caught my attention. Then I wondered, why do we stop doing things like riding bikes when we become adults?
Whenever I saw people riding bikes in town or on the rail trail where we like to hike, I'd think, one day, I will get a bike so I can ride around town and on the rail trails.
Well, one day finally came.
I was shopping with Hubby last month and, on a whim, I suggested we look at the bicycles. That's when I saw the most beautiful bike in the world. It was rose gold, had a cup holder and a smartphone mount, had a basket on the front and saddlebags on the back, and was the right size for my height. It was perfect. And it was on sale. But I didn't buy it—that day.
The next time I visited the store, it was still there. I asked if they had more in stock. They said no. I'd already checked online and knew it typically sold for more than double the price and, on several sites, it was out-of-stock. When the sales associate said the one I fell in love with was the last one, I panicked. So I bought it.
I was able to load it into my compact SUV on a rainy afternoon with the help of a masked stranger who saw me struggling. It's now sitting in my living room ready for sunny, warmish weather. The helmet I found online should arrive this week.
This year, I'm going to "ride bikes" just like 13-year-old me. I'm going to ride to work, to the park, and to the outdoor seating area of the coffee shop. It's going to be great!
