Single Speed

Yesterday, I told James that we should get married now so I could have one of his vintage bicycles. Actually, I didn't give him the luxury of selecting one to gift me, as I had a particular blue hued one in mind. To me, this was an obliging and undemanding request, not an imposition. "Well, yes, I'm going to marry you, but you can have the bike now," he said to me. It may as well have been the Gold Rush of 1849, because I had already packed my bags for California, my eyes glinting with the reflection of all that potential opulence. Exactly what I had wanted to hear. "No, I couldn't possibly," I said, feigning that I truly believed this idea was pure cockamamie. "I can see how protective you and your father are of them," and then pure instants later, when he demanded I have the fendered beauty of my desires, I practically squealed, "But I would ride it wearing play suits and have a wicker basket up front that would fit my miniature dog breed, and put a motor on it, maybe, possibly!" By "put a motor on it," I naturally meant that I would watch daddy purchase it and then attach it to the old fashioned two wheeler that I had longed for since about age fourteen.

Of course, James rode these bicycles before it was cool to shop vintage, before perhaps, they were even novelties - when people were selling them at yard sales for two whole dollars, and when they were too rusted out to be worth restoration. While I brought my off road bike to college which I attempted to give charm with a little bell and metal pannier, James was riding his timeless transporters around campus. Sometimes I wonder how we hadn't met sooner, why I hadn't enviously and longingly looked at his bicycles and paid a compliment to their owner, commenting on how I had always, always wanted to have one just like his! We may never have had such an encounter, but instead I have the memories of me riding tandem with him much later on the brick walkway, as though his frail little bike were instead a great steed, or soaring down mountainous hills, together learning to fly, or James pedaling across campus, worried, searching for me in every cranny and crack, and parking his bike only to forget later where it ran off to once he found me. And it is this that makes me think, yes, we should indeed, share a bicycle, pass old treasures off to one another.

Oh, and let's not forget: he'd better follow through with this underhanded endowment, because I've already been dreamily gazing at pictures of gals on vintage bicycles!

Always loved the bike riding Ginger in Carefree.

Pin curls, penny loafers, and a bicycle just like the one I want!

Appropriately enough, this is one of James' relatives.

Who doesn't love a bike riding pin up?

That's all for now.

♥ Vintage Betty