I Rode a Bike

For those of you who recall the fateful Easter of 1994, me on a bike isn't an everyday thing.  As I was cruising at a mere 35 mph on Smartville-Hammonton Road with my dad and a family friend, off to the Baker's Easter party at their ranch, something dreadful happened.  My wheel started to wobble furiously.  As I looked down to see it moving uncontrollably, I had two options; fight or flight.  My body chose to pass out, plain and simple.

I awoke to find my legs tangled in the bike (really it was just sort off on top of me) and I immediately flashed to the scene in that film Alive where a plane has crashed in the tundra of Alaska and this woman's foot is caught in a seat.  I mean, really caught.  Really no option for her other than cutting her whole foot off.  I think she ended up starving or having a heart attack.  Oy!  But not to worry, I was not stuck.  I was, however, a bloody mess.

Since then, I have been pretty fearful of bikes.  Yes, I have ridden them here and there, but never again like I used to, racing up and down my driveway for hours.  However, it appears the shop has a company bike and it was suggested I take it for a spin.  Mind you, the only reason I considered this is because Florence now has a new rule that there are no cars in the center...for the most part.

So, I thought, "Why not?"  It took some time to reacquaint myself with the feel of the bike, but like they say...it is like riding a bike.  I was cruising and loving the feeling of the wind in my hair.  What's that I see?  A tourist walking straight towards me.  I should break...break...break.  Dude, there is no break!  Well, there was, but as Alex put it upon my return, "You need to break for a long time before it stops."  Let's just file that in the helpful UPFRONT info box.  In the end, I was fine, never going fast enough that I couldn't stop with my foot.  The most dangerous part was people darting out in front of me.  Florence is so flat, having a good bike is a real treat.  If we ever move here, I will have to invest in a good one.

Now, if you are not aware of the importance of a bicycle in Italian history, I recommend you watch Bicycle Thieves or Ladri di Biciclette (1948) by Italy's son, Vittorio de Sica.  This is one of the most gorgeous Italian films of all time, as well as heart wrenchingly sad.  This man's entire livelihood depends on finding his bike that he manages to get out of consignment for his new job, only to have it stolen by another man whose life is equally dismal.  To say the bicycle has a symbolic significance in Italy is an understatement.  Perhaps the most poignant thing to have come from this film is the concept that if someone steals your bike, it is somewhat natural to steal someone else's.  I guess if I do own a bike here, someday, I won't invest too much in it.

Hope all is well and ci vediamo, possibly on my bike somewhere soon.

ZM