Hev on Wheels

So I bought this bike, right, off a geezer on Bathurst a few weeks back. Get me to work and back, thought I.

Now I'm in love with it.

Actually, I'm not in love with it itself. We get on alright and that, but it is fundamentally A Shit Bike. I bought it for $25, spray painted it, gave up on trying to sand off the rust, figured out after weeks of being too scared to try the shaky gears that if I did change up or down then the chain would come off, lock up my back wheel and throw me into the road, handed it over to Mr Cycle-mad who fixed it, and then learned to accept it for who it was.

However that doesn't really seem to matter any more, as it gives me unadulterated joy in 3 different ways:

a) It lets me eat more food, and as we all know from the days of Porky Parry, there's nothing I like more than to eat food.
2) It lets me go down hills fast
3) It facilitates my love affair with Toronto.

Since I've started my brilliant new job up on the Danforth (Greektown) my journey to work has finally transplanted itself from Queen Street up onto Bloor, and through parts of the city I'd barely explored before. I can take a slightly different route every day and discover something new and cool every time. It wakes me up, gives me more time to listen to music and has made my thighs more substantial than I ever thought possible in a good way.

Bikey also clears my head, especially on my secret little night cycles around T dot. Whether I'm basking in the evening warmth or feeling singular drops of cool rain on my forehead, I feel proper alive and genuinely contented.

It gets me to wherever I'm going quicker than walking and cheaper than the TTC, giving me more time to spend all that money I'm saving. It even lets me add to my list of potentially dangerous pastimes, as I don't have a helmet and I drive like a tit.

You know what? I am in love with it, like Debbie McGee is in love with Paul Daniels: despite all reasoning.

It may be decrepid and close to its demise, but it's got a feisty spirit and a lovable character; and for those reasons, I name bikey Edith.

Long live Edith.