... Created a Blog Instead of Riding my Bike

So I inherited this bike just before Christmas. Not the death of an elderly relative kind of inheritance (though I'm sure someone from the blue rinse set would look pretty sporting on this bad boy). Rather, I inherited this bike from a friend subscribing to the "free to a good home" school of sales. As this is usually only an offer you come across concerning a litter of unwanted mixed-breed kittens (and not a mint condition, cream-your-pants-it's-so-cool Mexicali Beach Cruiser) it's probably not too much of a stretch to imagine how much of a good deal I believe I got on this two-wheeled, leader of the pack bundle of goodness.

And now for some back story.

Up until seeing this picture, and the accompanying "Ken Bruce has gone mad!" sales offer, I had not been on a bike in over fifteen years. Not because the opportunity simply hadn't presented itself, but because I had developed an aversion to riding bikes. I had nothing against bikes themselves, or other people riding bikes, but the physical act of me personally sitting on one and pushing the pedals around to make it go some place? Vaguely horrifying. Something I always recognized as not being at all a logical emotional response, but all the same still felt at a level very much on par in the phobia stakes with my aversion to The Creatures of the Sea (yes, all of them, even seaweed).

Most of the time, through sheer necessity, you reach a point as an adult where you have to face your fears - but when you have a phobia of bike riding? When there's feet and trams and trains and taxis and cars, it doesn't really interfere with one's day-to-day routine. I'd therefore allowed myself the luxury of feeling the fear and doing nothing about it. At best, I looked on it as a personality quirk. At worst, as a private, dirty habit that wasn't harming anyone else (like smoking in your apartment at 3am with all the doors and windows shut, or picking your nose while watching TV).

But the photo of Pedro changed all that. Those wide handle bars, fat tires and that shiny, shiny black paint-job with flame detailing to rival anything Mattel could of dreamed up for their Hot Wheels line in the 1980s? My heart was pounding and it wasn't out of fear. That damn little Mexicali had stolen my heart.

Now Pedro is living in my teeny, tiny courtyard. I had one assisted ride to get him here (and loved it) but have been away since bringing home baby. First day back, my best intentions where to go out for a trot. Make sure "getting back on the horse" was something I could make stick. In fact the plan for the day was to create this blog AND go out for a bike ride. But as the day has unfolded, with me still in a hello kitty singlet and my underpants at nearly 6pm in the evening, computer in lap and this first post for what i did today almost done...

Turns out that what I did today was to create a blog, rather than go ride my bike.

Sorry Pedro.