we moved.

It is like cave exploring. Or getting a new toy that you take apart and put back together hundreds of times just to see how it works. Or if you were a cat and your owner got a new refrigerator and you had that HUGE box all to yourself and to make your own...

This is how I feel in my new neighborhood. There are cycling paths everywhere! Not just road bike paths, but mountain bike paths too! Which means there are tons of hiking paths to hurt myself on. Plus, there is tons of room for Helga and I to go safely go exploring. I could not have picked a better home base!

Additionally, I have a new local-bike-shop. I am shy and all weird around new people. I wonder how long it will be until I have the guts to get to know them. I'm going to wager that it will be until my first major bike issue... hehe.

--AC

new ride.

I added a bike to my collection. It is black. It has blue and yellow argyle wheels. The handle bar tape is blue as well. It is my hipster single-speed.

The hunt for a single speed started when I was too scared to ride my other bikes any place I had to lock them up. I was too afraid they would get stolen. My solution to the problem was to get a cheap bike that would suck less if it got stolen.

I decided on a single speed because I didn't already have one. Plus, the nostalgia from my childhood was strong. I did decide to for-go the fixie because I don't like pedaling ALL the time.

After locating the frame and purchasing the wheels, handle bars, brakes and rack separately I had to wait 2 weeks for my bike to be assembled. As much as I fancy myself an uber-cyclist, I do not possess many bike building skills. I am, however, very impressed with my ability to change a flat tire and will tell you in great detail about it whenever I can.

I love the finished product. It is much more appealing to the eye than I had anticipated. And unfortunately, not only does it stand out in a crowd, I am very attached to it because I picked out all the parts and *cough*built it myself*cough*.

So. I spent weeks picking out bike parts. And another few weeks waiting for the local bike shop to assemble everything for me. And now I have another bike I am too afraid to lock up.

Guess that means I need to get ANOTHER bike.

--AC

effortless magic.

I don't name all my bicycles. Really, I've only named one. Her name is Helga. She's my recumbent tricycle. She's sturdy and strong, but won't win any races. She also happens to be my ride of choice lately.

To put things into perspective, I own two other bicycles. I've never had any inclination, motivation or inspiration to name them.  There is just something special about Helga. She gets me.

It's a strange relationship between a cyclist and their bike. Attachment, fondness, and affection develop without warning. Irrational and nonsensical as it is, it sneaks up so quietly it's hard to avoid. But avoidance isn't really necessary. I am content with my relationship with Helga. It's just works. It's effortless. It's magic.

I do realize this all sounds strange. Effortless magic with a bicycle? Yep. You heard me correctly. And I'm okay with you thinking I'm a little weird. Let's be honest, I am a little weird. But in a good way.

--AC

the unknown.

Discovering new cycling routes is a curious hobby for me. I rarely ever ride the ones I discover, yet I have an unquenchable desire to find them. Hundreds of dollars worth of therapy would probably reveal a link to my cycling accident last year. I have an enormous fear of new bike routes. I learned the hardway that the unknown has consequences.

Yesterday I was driving down the road where my crash occurred last summer. The cause of my accident is now surrounded by construction barricades topped with flashing lights highlighting its existence. While I am pleased with this new development, it is coupled with explosions of irritation. My arm broken in two places, sprained neck, and bruised/battered leg could have been avoided with a little pro-activeness by the city. *sigh*

This reaction serves no purpose. It doesn't help my recovery -- neither mental or physical. In fact, it increases my anxiety and prevents me from getting on my bike.  Turns out, avoiding this stretch of road is what is best for my recovery.

I'll continue to plan new cycling routes. I'll continue to ride hundreds and hundreds of miles in my head. I'll continue to hop on countless, imaginary city buses when my legs are tired and the sun is too bright. Right now, cycling in my head is the safest place. I don't crash there.

--AC

oops.

If asked to describe me, clumsiness would probably make the top 5 descriptors used by my friends. I hurt myself doing mundane, everyday tasks. A couple of years ago, I clipped off the tip of my left ring finger using a new pair of scissors. I also pulled my quad muscle trying to stand from a kneeling position. Okay, maybe I'm confusing clumsiness with a "danger to myself".

*scratches head*


Being clumsy does keep life interesting. Without it, I'd miss waking up with a bruise the size of a baseball on my thigh/calf/arm/back and no memory of how it happened. Something that large should have left some sort of memory... Or maybe I'm confusing clumsiness with a very poor memory.

*scratches head*


This is a cycling blog, so what does my clumsiness have to do with cycling? I'm not sure.  I'll keep you posted.

--AC