When I returned from Montana, Cillian picked me up at the airport. He whisked me outside to his friend's car, which was waiting by the curb. We threw my bags inside, and I got in too. But C motioned for me to get out - to sit in a different seat, I thought? Before I knew what was going on, though, the car drove away. With my bags inside. This was confusing but I am used to interesting things happening when C's around, so I walked in the direction he led me ... toward a shiny purple bicycle with a basket of fresh flowers and my name on the front! So pretty. So fun. We rode home in the sunshine, on the bike path. = Perfection.
It's a toodling bike, for sure, made so one may sit back and look at things while pedaling around. And it's older than me (b. 1973) but still lookin' good, thanks to some good care and a major shine job from C. She's so pretty that on Saturday, two vendors at the farmers market came out of their stalls to admire and say things like, "Oh, that's a dandy!" I've never owned a comment-worthy vehicle before... To top things off, later on Saturday C found a great woven basket (fair trade, from Ghana!) to go on the front. It's one sweet ride.
{Thank you, Cillian!}
