My dorky bike

I may have the dorkiest bicycle in town. It is a late 60's vintage English-made Raleigh, black with finned fenders front and back. All it needs is a big basket and I'd be ready to bike to my job at the factory in the British countryside. That is if I lived in the British countryside and if I had a job (yeah, that is a bit of a temporary challenge to my Happiness Quotient).

I love my bike though partly because it is so incredibly dorky and uncool. Its uncoolness means that it isn't a "serious" bike for a "serious' biker. It isn't meant for speed, it is never going to participate in a triathalon, there will never be any need for me to pin official my official race number to my shirt before I get on it. And if it isn't a "serious" bike then it must by default be a fun bike which is exactly what I need: a bike that is supposed to be ridden with my head up and a ready smile for passing neighbors. It is a bike that isn't insulted when I coast all the way downhill because coasting is just plain old fun. It doesn't feel underutilized when I peddle slowly past a nearby marsh to watch the herons fly into their nightly roost. It doesn't admonish me when I park it outside while I go in and get ice cream.

No, this bike wants to have fun too. What I've found is that as soon as I get on it and peddle a quarter mile, my troubles start to melt away. Maybe it takes me back to those carefree days of childhood, maybe it is the feeling of soaring that bike riding provides, but whatever it is, my Happiness Quotient goes up as soon as the first peddle goes down.

So here is my committment: the next time I'm feeling blue, instead of flopping in front of the tv and channel-surfing, I'm going to CHOOSE to take advantage of this instant mood-lifter and go for a spin.