I bought the bike from a very pregnant young and pretty french woman with the most perfect massive bottom. As soon as the auction finished on eBay I was at her pretty inner-city town house with my $350 cash which probably shocked her a little - I was certain I would win the bike, being the only bidder and all.
I bought it because my car died. I killed it. Apparently if you don't put oil in when the light comes on then your car is dead. It would have cost more to replace the engine that to buy the type of car I buy. I bought a car anyway. And the bike.
Apparently Sydney is the most unfriendly place in the world for cyclists. I wish I could say otherwise but I think it may be true. The bike feels nice. The breeze whilst whizzing down big hills feels lovely but the cars are scary. They fly past. A man from a van going in the opposite direction yells something - for fun I think. Someone cuts me off at a crossing. My life does flash before my eyes. Cyclists wearing Lycra move as fast as the cars but I am nowhere near riding like this. I'm not wearing Lycra.
I stay to the footpath where I can because I am still learning the rules but these paths magically end, forcing me to cross the road.
I imagine myself to be in Copenhagen where apparently it is now uncommon for people to drive - Sydney is so so far away from this.
I'll keep dreaming. I think I will keep riding. I'm getting a little obsessed - unlike me really.