I like my bicycle. My bike can trick my heart rate into rising and make my globbies (kid word for fat) burn and I won’t even notice. On my bicycle, it’s inconvenient to squeeze the brakes on the way up the hill. Also, it’s embarrassing to walk the bike, so it doesn’t cross my mind to stop when the going gets tough. Plus, bicycling seems more like an adventure. I can’t wait to see what’s over the hill–and the next hill–and the next…
My feet can’t fool me that well. While running, the minute my heart rate rises and I sound like Pepe Le Pew’s girl-prey, Penelope, (le pant), I walk. Because I can. It’s inconvenient to keep running uphill. (And, I won’t roll back downhill if I stop.) Plus, I know I’ll see what’s over that hill–eventually.
My love for my bike is a mystery. Not only is it a slavedriver, but sometimes my husband pretends he doesn’t know me when I’m on my bike.
One instance occurred because our carpet gives me itchy feet. This makes me sport socks or big terry cloth flip-flop slippers indoors.
Outdoors, my husband prefers running over bicycling, yet he’s agreed to load my bike for our regular jaunts around a nearby lake. Since he does this for my well-being, I try to be in the car when he’s ready to go. Or, at least before he says my name in vain or smoke comes out of his ears. This often requires a rush to enter the vehicle before he honks the horn.
One beautiful day at the park, he unloaded my bike and set off running. I rode over to get a drink from the water fountain, then leisurely cycled past him as a group of people approached from the other direction. My husband called out, “Hey lady. Cool shoes.”
I surveyed the crowd for the lady with shoes exceptional enough for my husband to comment on them, but I didn’t see any notable feminine footwear. However, I did notice the crowd seemed exceptional cheerful–especially as I met up with them. I assumed I’d captivated them with my cool bike. It makes me smile, too.
A ways beyond the friendly crowd, I reached down to swipe a bug off of my toe, when I stroked something fuzzy and soft. I looked down to see oversized turquoise terry cloth flip-flop slippers.
Hey lady was me!
All I needed to finish my outfit was a red clown nose and a bicycle horn.
This song is my tribute to my bicycle and the day my husband pretended not to know me at the lake. (One of the days.) (I know this song’s mostly about roller skates. But it’s a little bit about bikes, funny foot attire, and a cocky guy with keys.)