A tale of two wheels
It is a truth universally acknowledged that red cars go faster. The same however cannot be generalised to red bicycles.
In the office several days ago I was moaning about waiting at the bus stop in the rain. It’s a slight variation on moaning about the weather in general, I like to keep things fresh. Nigel, one of the “attendings”, offered me his niece’s bike, which she no longer used. He did say it needed to be serviced, which perhaps should have rung alarm bells. Instead, I daydreamed about newfound mobility, while continuing to accept lifts and then trying to get in on the driver’s side, or while scurrying across the road to get to the right bus stop because I’d been waiting, in the rain, on the other side expecting it to come from the opposite direction.
So it was with some delight I got on the 99 UBC out to The Bike Gallery in Point Grey. There is a rule here which states as soon as the passenger’s ticketing is complete, the bus must lurch into the traffic, slam on the brakes while said traffic scatters out of the bus’s way, and then start again. I know it’s a rule because all of them holler “Hold on!” just as you’re reaching for your ticket and have no possible way to hold on. The “Whoo hoo” is an optional extra, but I’ve heard it more than once! Swinging from rail to rail like monkey bars, I found a seat and watched out the window as the hippie-turned-yuppie Kitsilano segued into the affluent, conservative (home of all my bosses) Point Grey.
Standing in the Bike Gallery, I was a little excited. Shiny, speedy bikes hugged the walls of the shop, while the centre shelves were cluttered with more accessories than I had ever realised one could need. I imagined myself, cruising along the open road, wind in my hair, the sound of smoothly spinning tyres and perhaps even a little birdsong….
That was until the man brought out my bike. It’s hmmm…. it’s less than spectacular. It’s red. But….. It’s not quite so shiny, the tyres are a little wider, a little less speedy looking than the racers. But never fear, the very first place I rode to was the Mountain Equipment Co-Op. Forget all you’ve heard about Chanel, Dior and Valentino. In Vancouver, the only brand to be seen in is MEC, purveyors of fine gore-tex, merino and polypropylene outdoor gear. And I assure you, I will be seen in my electric blue, windproof, rain resistant jacket. I think possibly I am inducing seizures in pedestrians as my jacket flashes past them, but at least it deflects attention from what I’m riding. And really what the bike lacks in style, it makes up for otherwise. It allows me to get to lots more places, even on a Sunday and lets me see a different side of the city. Without the bike I wouldn’t have noticed squirrels playing on people’s lawns, I wouldn’t have heard The Cat Empire being played out some one’s window and I would have missed my funniest moment in Vancouver, watching a woman vacuum the cherry blossom off the nature strip!
Tags: bicycle, Canada, expat, Travel, vancouver
