My Good Neighbor was kind enough to accompany me on a bike-shopping expedition yesterday. We started out at a shop for serious riders in the East Village. I had intended on buying a used bike so that I could get a quality frame at a decent price. But when we arrived at Bikes By George, the pickings were rather slim... and they weren't pretty.
I didn't necessarily want one with a basket on the front or rainbow-colored tassels hanging from the grips but the hot pink and mustard-colored offerings were less than stellar. Good Neighbor realized what he was dealing with and promptly got on the phone and found a few more stores. As we walked westward, many bikes were chained up along the way which we naturally critiqued:
Good Neighbor: That's a nice one.We had big plans to hit the shops for serious cyclists but we took a quick detour into the Astor Place K-mart "just to look." Less than 30 minutes later, I was swiping my debit card at the register with a kick-ass Huffy (going back to my roots) in tow. It's a sweet ride. The last time I bought a bike, I was about 13. I had saved up money from my paper route (I kid you not) and bought a powder pink and gray Huffy 10-speed. The handlebars had pink grips and there were lovely splashes of pastel colors on the frame. I bought it on a Saturday but couldn't pick it up until Monday because it had to be assembled. That schoolday was quite possibly the longest, most excruciating day ever.
Yours Truly: Nope, too "Mrs. Gulch."
Good Neighbor: Sigh.
This time around, the seat had a bar code sticker on it so we wheeled it to the register, the cashier scanned it and off we went. I also got a helmet but I made Good Neighbor carry the K-mart bag because I still have embarrassment issues stemming from childhood about that. I think I was ridiculed in school because of K-mart brand crayons one year and I've been scarred ever since. Besides, I looked kick-ass on the 6 train standing next to a metallic blue bike with a shock-absorbing frame. I couldn't ruin the illusion with a plastic bag draped from my wrist. Ew.