To get from place to place in this city, it seems you’re either all alone on your own two feet or you’re negotiating a crown on the system/subway. I feel lucky to find a moment to breathe, never mind bike. A few moments fused in sweet intimacy with a bike sounds great, but I doubt a bike is just going to pop into my life and beg me to ride it.
So one inbox morning, I get a request from Kate Goldwater (auh20designs.com). Do I want to be in friend’s bike fashion show?
Sounds fun, right?
I walked over to the West Village for the fitting, and immediately catch the perfect biker’s outfit. A black felt fitted jacket with a tough slanted zipper and a matching black skirt. Set with a proper dark english cap and velvet boots, and I’ve got a match. I’m assigned to swan silver bike, called “The Diva”, which I’m instructed to step into, gracefully.
I try my best.
I haven’t actually ridden a bike since middle school, but asking to sample a store’s equipment around the block is an inappropriate moment for cowardice.
As I pedal out the door, I’m struck by laughter, and the thought; I did not think this would be happening today.
“Watch out!” I yell to a group of businessmen passing by, “Boldly inexperienced biker. Don’t really know how to stop”.
“That’s a nice outfit” calls out a guy across the street.
“Thanks,” I reply, “It’s not mine”.
“The bike, too?” he says.
“Yeah,” I chatter, enthusiastically, “It’s called “The Diva”. It’s from this really cool bike shop around the corner. The Urban Hub…or something…I mean, it’s right nearby…… They’re having a bike fashion show.”
“So, you’re one of the models?” he asks.
“Yeah. My name is Mona. What’s yours?”
“George,” he replies, “I own the bike store”.