A trike, a dike and a dream

4 Apr

Trikes. Triumphant bikes. Three wheels to avoid death, and a basket for baguettes. What more could a girl want?

Bicycles are for people with balance, and I am most definitely unbalanced.

In my head, I romanticize the notion of riding through town on my bike. Its basket would be full of great cheese, a little chocolate (which reminds me, I really want to see Chocolat again and can’t find it on Netflix or anything — sigh, first-world woes) a bottle of wine and a baguette poking out the top.

Maybe in my head my invisible bike and I are in France. Or Holland. Yes, let’s go with Holland.

As I bike the dike, I unfold a woolen blanket of some kind, probably hand-loomed by a toothless warty woman in Italy, and remove the contents of my bike basket.

Noshing on cheese and wine (because the Hollish people certainly don’t eat, they nosh. Yes, I know they’re not called Hollish.)

I’d watch the grebes dip and disappear under Dutch waters, bobbing up after they’d found a morsel of grebe food. What the hell do they eat? I don’t know.

Real life is where I live, and I can’t ride a bike well. I look like a spaz, wearing a giant helmet lest I sustain a traumatic head injury.

I take no chances — turns and corners are out of the question. Nice, straight lines are alright. I always walk my bike across crosswalks. I’m a complete dork. I’d even use training wheels if I could, but that is just ridiculous seeing as that I just turned 34.

However, I think I could fulfill my Holland fantasy if only I owned a three-wheeled bicycle.

I pause to use the other name for a three-wheeled bike, but I need to come to terms with the name of my fantasy mode of transport.

A trike. A damned tricycle, OK?

Whatever, trikes are cool. I’ll make them cool.

While researching my Dutch dream, I came across a website dedicated to people with similar Holland-based fantasies (or balance issues, but I prefer fantasy to fact).

Here’s why trikes are cool:

– If I had a trike, I could (in theory) ride to the grocery store and back, my giant baskets filled with sustenance. This would be very green of me, as the only carbon emissions would be carbon dioxide exhaled by moi.

– Anyone, even the elderly, specially abled and the young, can ride a trike. If they have two legs, two arms and the ability to power aforementioned appendages, a trike is manageable.

– Some trikes have gears, so I could pedal my mass plus whatever goods I’m transporting up small hills. Like the mounds of Dutch dikes. Or Olive Way in Seattle. Although I think I’d need a tow behind a Prius to really make that happen.

– I Googled “tricycle and death,” and nothing came up. I will now surmise no one in the history of anyone has ever died on a tricycle, for the innerwebs told me so. WAIT — I spoke too soon. Here, a trike rider died. But he was shot. Does this count? It occurred in Zamboanga City, Philippines. Note: I will not ride my trike in Zamboanga City.

– Seattle Mayor Mike McGinn could create traffic lanes dedicated to trikes only. He already is pro-bike, so how about being pro-trike, eh Mayor McGinn?

Bike riders are zippy, feckless disobeyers of traffic laws and are wont to get themselves killed (because it seems they’re too cool to wear helmets or use mirrors or, gasp, stop at red lights).

Trike riders are the opposite. They are the philosophers of the bike world, carefully choosing a three-wheeled mode of transport and then decking it out with all manner of flags, lights, mirrors, horns and bells. Trikers would use appropriate hand signals, and be courteous of the surrounding vehicle traffic which, any tricycle owner worth his three wheels knows, would crush their bodies like a shoe on a beetle.

Anyone own a tricycle? Do you live in a European country? Do Europeans accepts trikes as a sensible means of transporting sneetjes brood? Are you ridiculed? Or are you ridi-cool?

Someday I’m going to ride a trike. Someday. And when you hear that bell, you’ll know it’s me. I’ll be the one with the giant baguette in my metal basket, a helmet and big, orange flag whipping behind me. I’ll be a-sparkling in LED lights, with my safety orange vest on complete with reflector tape.

I’ll be safe. I’ll be courteous. I’ll be a hardcore triker.

Trikes, represent!

© Wonky Nostrils and Taming Flamingoes, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to blog author and Taming Flamingoes with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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2 Responses to “A trike, a dike and a dream”

  1. Melissa Geisler Trafton April 4, 2012 at 6:02 PM #

    My grandparents had one of these, and my cousins and I had a great time as preteens cruising around the Napa Valley — which at the time was very rustic — don’t forget, trikes are also awesome on uneven ground. (and, PS, I loved the Korean bathhouse blog – – almost started looking for one in my town!)

    Like

    • Wonky Nostrils April 4, 2012 at 6:04 PM #

      Awesome grandparents! Napa Valley would be a beautiful place to trike. 🙂 Oooh, where in the world do you live? I’m telling you, it’s the most basic, decadent and necessary way of communing around! Love me some Korean bathhouse time! Thank you for reading.

      Like

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