I want to ride my bicycle

Let's share a moment of regression.

I have a hole in my jeans, a scab on my knee and a brand new bike.

The first two are because the second bike I tried totally BIT ME. It did! Probably it had heard me saying how much crapper it was than the (cheaper) first bike, the one I actually bought, so let that be a lesson to you. Watch what you say about your inanimate objects.

The last one is because Beloved wanted to buy a bike. Oddly enough, he still doesn't have one, but I do. Now, I've heard it said that women choose their cars for looks and their men for performance, and with men it's the other way around. Of course I could never endorse such a blatantly sexist generalisation, but I should point out that I found it *really hard* to deny myself the extremely cute and totally impractical Electra, or even the winsomely Victorian Pashley Provence, instead focusing on the boringly functional Trek range, that had actual gears and could get me up an actual hill if I were stupid enough to face one, and not have Beloved thumbing his nose at me and calling rude names.

Obviously, though, it gives me great pleasure that my new bike is totally the cutest out of that performance-orientated line.



(I may as well point out that as likely as not, this bike won't get ridden for, say, another two months, then we'll take it out a couple of times, then it'll hide in the shed and get rusty. It's probably a really stupid buy. But for the first time in my life, I have a brand new bike, and I am quite liking it.)