Sunday Scribblings #19 – Hello my name is….

En francais, “bonjour, je m’appelle”

….la bicyclette de Jennifer

I am a black hybrid Miele, with grey and red stripes.

Jennifer rides me every day.
I love that she depends on me, that I am her main form of transportation.
Along with my pals, Left and Right Panier Baskets and Pink Metallic Helmet, she relies on
us to bring her and her belongings to their destination safely.

I know Jennifer’s riding habits;
her 10-12 km/hr riding speed,
her tendency to anticipate
green lights to get a head start on traffic,
and the way she needs to push my right pedal first to get going – never my left one.

She cares alot about us.
She safely locks us with a Kryptonite U lock,
decorates my handlebars with colourful flowers,
and keeps everything running smoothly with regular check ups at the bike doctor.

Jennifer and I make a statement when we ride.
I have stickers on me that say
“My bike takes me places school never could”
and
“Bikes are traffic, not targets”.
In a polite and informative way, Jennifer rings her bell at motorists,
so that she doesn’t get doored.
And so that I don’t get hurt.
I feel very cared for.

Together, Jennifer, me and my amigos travel to many different places.
Whle she does her business, I can spend time with bike friends, old and new, all over the city of Toronto.

She has lots of bicycle-riding friends, and so I get to meet a lot of different 2-wheelers.
My favourite and most intimate riding companion is her husband Paul’s bike.
But he can go a lot faster than me; he doesn’t have the extra weight of the panieirs.
Still, we’re really close and have an awesome relationship.
We sleep together in the shed at night, and often protect one another by being locked side-by-side around town.

I respect and admire Jennifer for riding.
She does it because it’s good for her and for the world my wheels roll through.
Sometimes she’s a little stubborn though.
Especially when she tries to ride in the winter when the roads haven’t been ploughed.

Jennifer hopes that I don’t get into the wrong hands.
She tells me that Toronto is the bike theft capital of the world.

Hopefully, my flowers will be a deterrant.