Cropped K on Bike 2015-12-10 at 2.05.37 PM

Calm down. Yes, I ride with a helmet, as seen in gif below.

If there’s an age limit for obsessing over a new bike, I’ve probably overshot by…oh, let’s round it off to half a century. 

That didn’t stop me from developing a bike crush last summer. The object of my affection: “Abbey” from the Pure City line of Pure Fix Cycles. At the outset, let me say this is not a paid blog post. But it was sweet of you to let that thought cross your mind. Also hilarious. It would mean their marketing department targets the old lady demo. Are you drinking? To underscore the point, here’s a Pure City video demonstrating a style of biking for which I lack both the youth and the right underwear. Also, the mom in me screams, “Put your helmets on!”

In the tradition of 21st century romance, I found Abbey online. I wasn’t looking for a bike when I spotted her, hadn’t ridden in years, but it was bike love at first sight. I just knew we were meant to be together. In the parlance of Marie Kondo, that grand duchess of decluttering, I knew Abbey would “bring me joy.”

Maybe it was her cheery yellow paint job and minty-fresh turquoise tire walls.

Or the step-through design that promised, “Hey, Old Lady, with any luck you won’t crack your pelvis getting on and off.”

Or the comfy-looking leather seat that beckoned, “Come sit, Old Lady Fanny.” 

Have I mentioned I’m really old?

Abbey played hard to get until I whipped out my credit card. Things moved fast from there, and within two weeks she’d moved in with me. Well, into my garage. The single rough spot of our union was that Pure City demanded Abbey be assembled professionally to activate the warranty. Cheap, cranky old ladies don’t shell out when we have cheap, cranky old husbands with perfectly fine mechanical skills.

REduxbikesave

From mid-July through mid-November, Abbey and I cruised our neighborhood nearly every day. I was recreating the fun of bike riding as a kid and realized a huge part of that was riding upright. The only other bike I’d owned as an adult was a Peugeot 10-speed purchased in my twenties. It had those ridiculous curled-under handlebars. (Attention serious bikers about to lecture on aerodynamics: I don’t care. Really, I don’t. Save your breath for the uphill.)

Abbey and I tool around at a leisurely pace on paved trails in a nearby park and on residential streets with almost no traffic. She’s a three-speed, but we’re not about speed or how many miles we cover in a day. We are about the quiet joy of pedaling in the fresh air in an increasingly unquiet world. That and the irrepressible, childish pleasure of dinging the bell to warn pedestrians we’re about to pass.

great Bike w: snow

A friend gave me this oh-so-French-movie basket for Christmas. Now for the baguette.

As the days grow longer, I’ve begun estimating how soon Abbey and I can reasonably hope to ride again. With luck, gloves, hat, scarf and a warm jacket, we’re thinking April 1.

That’s right. A fool in bike love.