I love the giddiness I feel with the breeze on me and the whir of the world around me as I whiz down a hill. The feeling of leisurely peddling down streets and seeing new things. I love flowers in my basket or wine in my saddle bags. Or a book in my backpack to read when I get to the park and a thermos of coffee.
When I was young I used to ride everywhere. “See you in five minutes!” my best friend and I would say simultaneously and we’d be off to meet at the park or just ride around the neighborhood until we found a coffee shop.
A bit older now I seem to just collect things with bicycles on them. Mugs with cute bikes with baskets of flowers. I am attracted the same motif on bags and pictures. Yet, my own charming bike that my husband gave me for my birthday last year has sat cozily in the living room for nearly a year now. The city and its streets and people have somehow affected my anxiety levels.
When we move to our country house (or is it a country cottage?), I intend to ride the back roads of the rural patchwork of farms. Heading over to the library or to an orchard The freedom that a bicycle gives is thrilling and the expression of being a child again- maybe even jumping the front wheel a bit on a raised part of sidewalk- has a place in une belle vie, don’t you think?