the bike

My yellow bike was stolen while I was in Africa so I returned to Paris bikeless.  Already two days of metroing felt like an unbearable task. I wanted a bike. I needed a practical form of transport. And walking, though otherwise ideal was just a bit too slow for my purposes.

Yesterday I went to the canal just to check out some places and to try my luck. In the first one the guy showed me a cute green thing he would sell me for 50€. Not a bad price but the bike looked like it would not make it out the door. And unfortunately the second proposal was not too much better. How frustrating.

I walked down the canal, in the cold rain, unhappy. Without too many expectations I stepped into the shop I used to take my bike to be repaired. “I have a bike for you – it is a great buy.” Yes I am sure. What a waste of time.

He brought the bike out. Apparently it had come in the very same morning. I looked at it. Price? 100€. I looked at the guy. I looked at the bike. And I looked at the guy. “What is wrong with it?”

“But nothing! It is like new! Don’t you trust me? Don’t you see it is like new?” oh, yes. I did see it was almost new and that was the problem. I circled around the shop with it. I had a basket in the front. It had a lamp that works. I had gears. It worked perfectly. It is black and looks like a Dutch bike – though obviously is not an original Hollandaise.

And now it is mine.

I paid. Bought a lock. I started biking.  It worked like a dream. I turned towards the river. And that is when the sun came out.