Once upon a time, there were two girls. These two girls (let’s call them Tara and Victoria) were crowded closely together looking at pictures of bikes online, looking for one that would carry them [...]]]> Come dear readers, gather close as I tell you an epic tale of one bike’s journey to the edge of the universe.

Once upon a time, there were two girls. These two girls (let’s call them Tara and Victoria) were crowded closely together looking at pictures of bikes online, looking for one that would carry them both as they embarked on a wonderous tour in western Washington. As they debated the benefits of each bike, suddenly they found the perfect bike. It gleamed red and was perfect in size and price, so without hesitation, they snatched up that perfect bike.

For two months they biked happily in tandem, enjoying the breeze and company of another person close by. Time flew, its hair blowing in the wind. Soon, the time of the tour arrived, and in a frantic flurry, the two had suddenly graduated. Tara sent their “Sweet Ride” on its way through Greyhound Package Express. It was far cheaper than mailing the bike by either post or taking it on the plane, and promised to arrive at their destination in three (yes! three!) days. Though unbelievable, Tara accepted this good luck graciously and sent off the bike whispering, “We’ll see you soon, Sweet Ride.” It gleamed lovingly back as if to say, “I’ll miss you every minute I’m gone.”

And so, the two girls found themselves in Washington and eagerly called the local Greyhound to see if their dear friend had arrived. Alas, it hadn’t. Surely, the girls thought to themselves, surely Sweet Ride will be here soon. Every day the girls thought this before laying their heads down to sleep. Surely, surely Sweet Ride will be here soon.

However, the days skated by without a care for the absence of Tara and Victoria’s dear friend. After calling so often, the girls began to instantly recognize the voice of the wonderful woman, Leah, who works at Greyhound. And every day, Leah would sadly inform the girls that their red bike friend was nowhere to be found.

After a week, the girls called in to put a tracer on their friend, to see if any other stations had seen Sweet Ride. Alas, no response.

It was one perfectly normal day, as normal days go. The sun shone, peeking out between clouds. The troupe had just put together a few acts and since it was two and a half weeks from sending their bike on its journey, Victoria called once more in final resignation.

“Hi Leah,” Victoria said. “I know our tandem isn’t here yet, and so I’m calling to put a claim on it.” Leah completely understood and told us how we could come in tomorrow to pick up the necessary paperwork. Tara and Victoria hung their heads sadly, with the sad thought that they’d never again see their bike. If only they hadn’t taken their time with Sweet Ride for granted, they thought. If only we could have one last ride.

But a beautiful thing happened! Tara’s phone rang quite suddenly. They both looked at the screen. “Greyhound Xpress,” it read.

“Hello?” Tara breathlessly answered, barely daring to hope.

“Is this Tara?” Leah asked coyly.

“Yes…yes, this is Tara….” The silence stretched on for three lifetimes.

“I have a tandem bicycle here for you!”

Indeed! Their Sweet Ride, their beloved bike had arrived! The sun blasted out from behind its cloud cover and a joyful chorus rose around them as Tara and Victoria grinned at each other.

And that, good friends and readers, is how the tandem came to Washington. Tara, Molly, and Victoria will be leaving Port Townsend tomorrow to head back to Everett to pick up Sweet Ride and soon head off to Bellingham.

I can’t help but wonder: will Sweet Ride reveal the secrets of its journey? Or will it silently keep the memories of Miami beaches, New Orleans jazz and the wide open skies of Montana? Who knows? If any of its stories should slip out, Tara and I will be sure to tell you. But for now, rest assured that it is finally here.

I mentioned how [...]]]> I spent yesterday evening with my brother ‘talking shop’ over my new bike. And by talking shop, I mean he helped me fix a few things, gave me a brief verbal tutorial, bike anatomy lesson, and then we leaned against the cars in the garage talking while I idly spun the front wheel.

I mentioned how I was going to try and take the bicycle maintenance class at school, which he agreed was a great idea for finding an open, accepting place to learn. This struck me as being a sort of strange thing to say, since I know there are huge numbers of bike co-ops everywhere. He explained that strangely, most bike co-ops are almost exclusively male and that there have long been issues for women and trans people when trying to be involved. When I asked why, he said that for some reason or another, women and people who are trans don’t usually end up in the bike-mechanic community. This is then perpetuated by them feeling too unwelcome, too shy, or too embarrassed to ask for help. I had never considered this, though I realized I’ve been really shy about going into our bike shop since I have been known to be a little too proud to ask for help sometimes. (Hence why I asked my brother for help. He doesn’t count. He’s obligated by blood to love me.) He also added that it’s a sad fact that many bike co-ops end up being home to a lot of misogynistic conversations…much like car mechanics, I suppose.

Most bike co-ops apparently have “ladies’ nights” specifically tailored to women and trans individuals. Not that men will be turned away, necessarily, just that the space is set aside specifically for women and others. This got me thinking about a lot of things.

1. Where are my feminist bikers? We’ve got the Sprockettes, mentioned in a previous post, whose feminist views focus mainly on body-image. That’s completely spectacular, but I guess I’m curious about a community of female bicycle enthusiasts who are aware of the issues my brother described to me. Or I suppose I guess I’m mostly curious about a bicycle co-op that isn’t necessarily ‘feminist’ and certainly not misogynistic, but is welcoming to everyone: young, old, male bodied and/or identifying, female bodied and/or identifying and everywhere in between. Surely it’s out there…right?
2. What is it about mechanics that seems to be male-dominated? Sure, I’ll confess. I get a little wary around power tools. (Except nail-guns. Bring on the nail-guns.) But I’d be more than happy to learn. I just haven’t really had the opportunity. Maybe that’s the very reason? Maybe the world is filled with other chicks like me who’d be super keen to have someone show them how to play around inside a car, but they’ve just never had the opportunity. Why is this? Freudian trauma? Societal expectations?  Apathy? I have no idea. (Author’s note: I would probably roundhouse kick Freud in the transference if I had a chance. Consequently, I think that’s the least probable explanation.)
3. How silly is it that when it comes to things we know the least about, we’re the most embarrassed to ask for help?
4. Next time I need help with my bike, I’m not going to be shy or proud. I’m just gonna go ask because hey, it’s probably going to be someone just as helpful and willing to help as my brother.