bicycles are for lovers

I remember my last bicycle. It was of the mountain persuasion and shined in asphalt grey with speckles of colour. I absolutely hated it. It was manly and boring and made me look even uglier than I was at 14 (puberty face). I got invited to a house party in my neighbourhood one evening and drove it there only to leave it in the hosts garage - of course, purposely. To this day when I see this (sleaze&douche) bag he still says to me "Hey Lolo! I have your bike whenever you want to pick it up!". He finds this hilarious and in turn I hate him.

Because of this awful bicycle experience some 15 years ago, i've been hesitant to make the big move of purchasing another. Of course, there's also the helmet issue and the fact that my hair unprovoked is really only decent looking for a couple hours. Toss a helmet into the mix and i'm fucked.

Well, flash forward to present day and i'm the proud owner of a perfect condition Supercycle Commuter - an old department store bicycle from the late 80's that according to Martin at Hoopdriver is "a real classic" (don't quote me on that). I fucking love my bicycle. She's smart, and dependable and a real charmer. She gets me where I wanna go, and quicker than those two flat things at the bottom of my legs. You know those things i'm talking about, lazing just below my ankles. Those spoiled left and right feet that require constant pedicures and new shoes. My bicycle on the other hand, asks for nothing but time with my bum and i'm more than happy to oblige. I guess you might say, it's the perfect relationship.