
I have had a bad case of bike envy lately. Everywhere I go, people are riding their bikes, soaking up the sun, traveling places. New bikes, used bikes, fancy bikes, humble bikes -- I love them all. I
want them all.
I have 2 bicycles in my garage, one too small and one too busted up to ride. They sit there, teasing me with their useless presence. It's been agony, I tell you.

I've been a long-time bike lover. I didn't get my driver's license until I was 26, and I relied on bike travel (and the kindness of friends) to get around. I fondly remember my bikes of the past:
- a little two-wheeler that I rode with the training wheels still on for way too long
- a blue no-speed Stingray bike with a banana seat and cool handlebars
- a red 5-speed Schwinn with a wicker basket in front
- a 10-speed Italian racing bike (who was I kidding?)
- a silver 10- speed that I bought from a guy on the streets of New York City for $10
- a red 18-speed Schwinn that followed behind my children as they learned to ride bikes of their own
- a blue mountain bike that ended up wrecked and thrown in the woods by my (then) preteen son and his cohorts.

And then I went cold turkey. I turned to walking as my exercise and relaxation. And that's been wonderful. But now I want to move. I want to put some miles behind me. I want to FLY down the road.

So I did it -- I went out and bought myself a new bike. And yesterday I rode ten miles, and it felt great! Oh, of course, it would probably be a good idea if I got a helmet. These Cape Cod roads are a little treacherous.

And by the end of the summer, I won't have to do the walk of shame up the really steep hills. I will pedal all the way.

So I am now the happy owner of a new bike. Nothing fancy. Pretty inexpensive. Serious bicyclists would probably scoff. But it's mine, all mine. And I'm ready to
FLY.