Pretty Riding: Spinning out

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I have been doing it again. Drooling over wheels. Perhaps it has met pathological proportions but I can’t stop despite all manner of logic. To be precise, the weather is ghastly and something you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in on 2 wheels. It’s hardly the time or place to be cycling, however I’m still valiant in my yearning for a bike to sate that liberating flying feeling. So this means I really need a bike, yes?

Hustle and Bustle Rain Jacket by Georgia in Dublin.
Hustle and Bustle Rain Jacket by Georgia in Dublin.

The bike I settle on, must be special. After all it will be for city-based purposes- cycling to the Botanic Gardens with picnic basket strapped to the front, spinning out alongside the murky Yarra River on a hearty spring day, or a fast pace buzz to Lygon for some vivid espresso.

Pashley wicker cycle basket
Pashley wicker cycle basket

The onus is on me to make a thorough decision informed by practicality (my Yorky terrier Seppe will after all need a basket on this locomotive) and aesthetics (it better match my ensembles, I don’t intend to falter on elegance and don lycra, this baby will ride with heels and frocks. Ding ding.

Paul and Joe Jersey dress. 2013.
Paul and Joe Jersey dress. 2013.

Today I was perusing bicycles by ROYAL DUTCH GAZELLE. Between the Dutch and the Danes, the final word on old worldly cycles lies.

There is the Basic model, aka the trendy Dutch Granny Bike, that coaxes me with it’s euro charm. But I’m hardly the picture of a Dutch Granny, or am I? The birthday is soon approaching. Maybe this one would be an apt purchase. In a range of 6 colours, the black tugs me more than ever.

Gazelle. Basic.
Gazelle. Basic.

But then I always authentic nostalgia so maybe the Toer Populair is the bike for me, which dates back to an exact model from 120 years ago. That little dinky light is tempting…

Toer Populaire. Gazelle.
Toer Populaire. Gazelle.

But then there is sky blue…

Gazelle. Miss Grace
Gazelle. Miss Grace

Choosing a bike is rather like choosing a dog. You have to go with the one that tugs your strings the most.

When I see it, I’ll get it. But it won’t be coddled and cuddled in bed like any puppy. Come spring, that baby is going to work, damn!

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