I received a bike for my 12th birthday. My 12th birthday was important in that it was PRE-teen, meaning that I only had 365 days left to cast aside any youthful nonsense so as to stride confidently into teenagerhood. My super rad childish bike had a banana seat, basket, and pegs on the wheels, none of which would do for a nearly-thirteen-year-old. My birthday bike, on the other hand, had a tiny seat, multiple gears, and a water bottle holder for all of the waterbottling I was sure to do in junior high. It was a Giant (make) Boulder (model), named as such because it was meant to deftly glide over enormous mountains (unrelated, I also assume Fred Flintstone’s car was a Giant Boulder). It was teal, as that was the only legal color in 1992. It was tall, sleek, streamer-free, and very grown-up.
It was so grown-up, in fact, that I rode that 1992 teal Giant Boulder directly into adulthood. And by “adulthood,” I mean right now this second, as it is still currently my bike.
Based on the amount of teasing I’ve received about my 1992 teal Giant Boulder bike you would assume that I had actually invented the bicycle and was riding around on one of those really early numbers with the oversized wheel in the front and a French clown hanging off the back. But no.
Every Mother’s Day, my husband totes my 1992 teal Giant Boulder bike over to a bicycle shop for a tune-up. And every year the bicycle shop employee tells him, “That’s a really old bike.” While I assume most bicycle shop employees can identify the make, model, and vintage of any two-wheeled vehicle based on the length of its center post or whatever, it doesn’t take a technical expert to know my bike is old. It looks old. Both of the brake levers (presser-inners?) are cracked. The seat is missing its gel pads.* The shape looks nothing like the ergonomic masterpieces of today. Also, it’s teal.
First off, there’s nothing actually the matter with my Giant Boulder. There’s never been anything the matter with it. It’s never thrown the chain. It’s never slipped a gear. When I push on the pedals, it moves. When I press the brake levers, it stops. It clicks when it’s supposed to click, and doesn’t squeak when it’s not supposed to squeak. I see no reason to get a new bike when I have a perfectly functional 30(0,000,000)-year-old bike sitting in the garage.
Second, and possibly more importantly, it only has about 400 total miles on it. Wait, did I say 400? I mean 40. While most people use their bikes for health and wellness and triathlons and family time, my Giant Boulder is really only used to get me to and from food. Usually, it’s ice cream; although last weekend I rode it down to the Farmer’s Market and bought a crepe (my husband and kids were also with me and we did other things, too, but that crepe was pretty good). Additionally, we live near a coffee-and-beer shop so sometimes we bike over there “for the exercise.”
And yet, I’m drawn to those fancy beach bikes that have become all the rage. The other day I saw one with a banana seat, basket, and pegs in the spokes of the wheels and I thought, “Man, I’d look super rad on that thing.” It was sparkly sea glass blue – which may sound like teal, but is totally different.
But then I remembered that everything else that I owned in 1992 is in style, and so I assume my Giant Boulder will soon once again be on the cutting edge of cool. Martha Stewart has already told me that teal is the new sea glass.
Plus, if I ever enter a triathlon, I’ll need a place to put my water bottle.
*Obviously, the photo above is of my Giant Boulder (and also my bike, wocka wocka). Kyle reminded me that this is my second bike seat. My first one was so skinny that I was worried I would one day go over a bump and the seat would never be seen again, so Kyle replaced it with one large enough for a grizzly bear to sit upon. That one has finally worn out and has become loose (the bike is rejecting it). I’m thinking I may upgrade it to an actual chair bolted to the frame.
This week’s news has four baseball players and a Dot. Read on.
Belcourt’s Braedan Grant, Evan Grant, and Louis Monette, as well as Dunseith’s Corben House, were selected to play in the first Native American All-Star Baseball Showcase in Atlanta. (KFYR TV)
Bismarck’s Isaac Anderson was one of 88 high school students selected to be a part of the John Philip Sousa National High School Honor Band – and, no big deal, he was named the principal alto saxophonist of the band. (KFYR TV)
Jamestown’s Shirley Meidinger posthumously donated $200,000 to the Alfred Dickey Public Library. (Jamestown Sun)
Congratulations to Hebron’s Maci Wehri – recently crowned Miss Agriculture USA! (Dickinson Press)
Dorothy – although if you live in North Dakota, you know her as Dot – Henke sat down with the Minot business community to give some advice to new entrepreneurs. (Fargo Forum)
Let’s Be (Official) Pals!
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