Beater Bike

Now that I'm a hardcore biker, I deserve a new bike. Well actually, because I got a fairly sizeable chunk of money I deserve a new bike. But before I tell you of my adventures in trying to find a new bike, I'll start with talking about my old bike.

(ok, well I haven't gotten around to taking a picture of my bike - it is currently still sitting in my storage locker, next to all my other sporting equipment. Instead, here is a quick description - bright turquoise SuperCycle bike, probably from the late 90s, with fenders and a nice rear rack - It also includes my life-hack - neon pink milk crate attached to my rear rack for bonus storage space)

This is my bike. Biggest pro about this bike - It looks so cute, I love the colours! Cons? Heavy and the chain slips off if I go over too big a bump. But the pretty-factor wins out every time.

Last year, I went to a local bike sale hosted by the Boy Scouts (and Girl Scouts too) because I had decided that it was totally possible to bike 13kms for work. It would save money in gas (to be re-allocated to Shawarma and Booster Juice!), it would get me active in the mornings and afternoons, it would be fun and get me in tip-top shape. But before I totally committed to it, I would need to make sure it actually was possible. So I decided to buy myself a cheap bike to see if I liked it. Introducing the Kermit.

As those who know me, know - I suck at directions. Like, really suck. Actually, I think one of my early blog posts on my 1001 things mentions this particular talent of mine. So I google maped (and studied the street-view) a route and printed it off. Then I took Kermit on a test ride on the weekend. I even arranged to have my mother be available to pick me up should I decide that a return trip was not possible. After a few detours and back-tracks, an hour later, I could see my work down the road. I decided that seeing it was enough, I didn't actually need to make it there and touch the end point (what I do when running). I called my mom, called off the ride, and headed back. Another hour later, where I daringly improvised parts of the route to make it less confusing, I reached my apartment, completely exhausted. My mom was there with a meat pie in hand to congratulate me on my accomplishment.

I didn't bike to work that week, my butt was a little sore. The week after though, I was ready! I packed everything in my nice pink milk crate and headed out to work with my sister (well, only the first 30 seconds with her - basically until the end of the parking garage). Made it to work in 50 mins - only getting lost once on the way! Success!

Until I made it to work, and couldn't figure out how to get hot water in the shower... fail.