She’s pink, but not pink-pink. I always thought I’d be attracted to blues or greens or reds, but I liked her the minute I set eyes on her.
She’s a Diamondback hybrid, more on the road than comfort side, I’m told, though her wheels are good for the dirt trails closest to my house. The guy who sold her to me, Ian, says she’s good with klutzes like me.
I woke before everyone today to take her for a test ride, and I was the one tested. Within minutes my heart was racing and sweat was forming on my brow, no matter which settings I chose. I made it midway up the first hill before I had to dismount and walk the rest of the way. It happened again on the return, which ended up, oh, 14 miles shorter than intended.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
I now understand the bond between [wo]man and bike. In our case, we’re both heavy lightweights who need each other to make this work. Speaking of work, I’m obviously going to have to build up to commuting to mine.
I like it though. I like the minor accomplishment when I crest a long incline still sitting in the saddle. I like the terrifying exhilaration of speeding downhill. I like that I’m going to be sore tomorrow, but for a change it’s a good sore.
I’m naming her Penelope.