My Big Boned Girl
Her mother was a racer and her father was a Cadillac. My girl takes after her mother in shape and her father in size. Her smooth ride more than makes up for her heftiness and slow start. Bike-riding men drool over her curvy frame and wide seat. From her bell to her lamp hook to her spokes and frame, she is 100% authentic.
Bessie, the 1950 Raleigh 3 Speed bicycle, found her way to me a few years ago. I had cast my wish for an old-school bike out into the universe and that call was answered a few days later by a lovely woman on freecycle. Bessie and I have toured around the rolling hills and villages of Berkshire and across the Carse of Stirling. She has been my commuting transport, my grocery hauler, my lazy sunday ride to a cafe, my conversation piece.
Her expansive backside won't hold standard child bike seats. Only one of the 3 gears works and her brakes only work some of the time. She is old. Maybe should be retired. But she is mine.