For most men of my age, though, this marketing ploy stuck. I’d no more ride a “girl’s” bike than wear her skirt, and this little stigma strikes me as simply silly. Amy owns a perfectly decent, fully-operational 1976 Schwinn Suburban twelve speed, but she doesn’t feel comfortable riding it in traffic. My bike’s laid up for a week or so, and I’m feeling ginky as a cross-dresser even thinking about riding her bike around.

It’s not like anyone knowns me here, and I cut one goofy profile when I ride my bike, anyway. Yet I care. Deeply. Over the next week, though, I intend to challenge my little prejudice and see what might happen to me if I were seen riding a “girl’s” bike around town. Necessity, if not the mother of busted convention, might be its daddy.

©2012 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: Car-less