We picked up my new bike. An Electra Amsterdam in basic black. It is beautiful. It rides like -- well, remember how much you loved riding your very first bike? How fun it was? Yeah, like that. With a bell to ding-ding, too.
We walked into the bike shop (Bike Garage, in Fremont -- they're good people and Archie's done a lot of business there and has been very happy) and when we told one of the guys we were there to pick up the Amsterdam, he said, "Man, that is a pretty, pretty bike." When he brought it out on the floor, it turned other customers' heads. As Archie was finishing up paying and stuff, this very young and pretty girl approached me and asked, "Is that yours? It's beautiful! I wish I was in the market for a bike like that!"
I rode it home, smiling all the way. Then I took the girls down to the schoolyard so Lou and I could pedal around on the playground. (Bebe and ChaCha wanted to swing and play on the jungle gym.) Lulu and I were zipping around in the front parking lot and I heard a man say, "Excuse me?" I stopped and turned around. This guy was standing there and he asked me what kind of bike it was and where I got it. So I told him and he said, "An Amsterdam, huh? That's the perfect name -- I lived there for a few years and everyone had a bike that looked like that."
I think my bike is the equivalent of a cute puppy. I guess I need to brush up on my small talk skills. Apparently, having a pretty bike gets you noticed.