I am very out of shape, and the reason I know this is because I rode my new vintage-style Schwinn downtown on Sunday and nearly killed myself. I’m still sore from the effort. It didn’t help that I had also forgotten to bring any water, a mistake I will not make again. I am thrilled with the bike, though. It is everything I wanted: a cruiser with seven speeds and a back tire rack. It’s a man’s bike; a Schwinn Point Beach; navy blue and cream with white wall tires. I bought a large wicker crate, which I strapped to the rack with zip ties, and a bell with a navy blue owl on it. All I need now is a vintage headlight and the bike is perfect. It’s pretty near to perfection already. It’s my own physique that needs the work.
I am pretending that downtown is a very long and arduous distance. Don’t burst my bubble. Yes I know that it is really only about a mile of extraordinarily flat terrain, and that I’m a drama queen. Brian and I walk the same route several times a week. I also know that going to Scripps – up the steep incline that is Indian Hill Boulevard – will be a billion times worse. I’m working up to that. I have a few weeks in which I will ride around and hope that the throbbing in my thighs stops before I’m a regular commuter on the thing. I may take it to my grandfather’s house next weekend, a similar incline on Towne Avenue (which runs parallel to Indian Hill). I may also think better of it before I get there. I know I’ll regret it if I decide to do it, but the thought of that zippy, downhill ride back home might win out.
I make fun, but really I’m thrilled about it. We’ve parked it next to Brian’s car in the garage and every time we go anywhere I give it a little pat. I’m trying to think of a name for it, as all beloved vehicles should have names. I’m looking forward to getting in shape as I pedal around Claremont. I’ve been trolling the web for fancy bike accessories. The ukulele fits beautifully in the back crate. There really isn’t a downside.
Except the sore legs.