Saturday, April 10, 2021

Pink bike. Red protector.

2 wheels > 4
London, ON
April 2021
This photo originally shared on Instagram


My bike doesn't have a nickname, though I think after almost 28 years, I should probably give it one.

It’s a Specialized Stumpjumper Comp, and unlike Henrietta the Honda, I never came up with an alliterative name that stuck.

That number, though. 28. Old. No, vintage. Crazy how that works, because it still feels like I first saw it in a long-since-closed bike shop in Montreal.

It replaced a yellow Bianchi that some idiot had plowed into in the shadows of the Olympic Stadium. I walked away somehow - and to this day don't understand how - but soon enough I was using a really sweet insurance check to get myself back on the road.

All these years later, I still cherish it. Not because it's some droolworthy machine - it isn't, and I don't ride because I care what anyone thinks of my bike. The value in this collection of bright pink chromoly tubing and now-ancient-but-dead-reliable componentry lies in where it can take me, and how it makes me feel along the way.

If you look closely at the bag on the rear rack, you might notice the red piece of fabric tied to the zipper. We call it a bendehleh, and my late mother-in-law always said it would bring good luck. So we attached it to each of our children's cribs. And car seats. And anything else. Because we all cherish the protection of those who watched over us.

I start every ride comforted that this simple piece of red fabric continues to keep me safe, and that my history stays with me no matter where I may end up.

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