We thought we'd go along to the Environment Centre's bike swap and sell meet on Saturday. I really had no idea what I was expecting, but I find myself realising that I wasn't surprised by what we found. There were lots of bikes. Mostly town bikes and old road bikes. A good deal of the bikes were 'vintage', and a couple of these were really beautiful bikes including a brown bike with its original leather saddle. It really was a gorgeous bike. In fact it was so beautiful it had a woman gushing over it for quite a while. She stood peering at it, angling it this way and that, saying things like "Wow. Look at this." "Isn't it beautiful." "Look at this seat!" I could almost feel her sorrow from across the room when she realised it wasn't her size. I thought she might have bought it anyway such was her love for it.
Personally, we were looking for a kids bike and otherwise nothing really specific, just looking. The looking worked out well, because this is all we ended up doing, not finding a suitable bike for said child and there being nothing we spied that called provactively to us to buy it. While my hubby continued to look around after we'd seen everything just to make sure there really was nothing for us I began weeding in the community garden. It was a strange moment where I found myself missing my cyclone weeder and wishing I'd just shoved it in my handbag. Yes, like many things, I love my cyclone weeder. It's the best. Makes pulling weeds so much easier (cyclone weeders are available from hardware stores and some nurseries for around $5 and have two prongs that get straight in under the centre of the weed and a piece of metal that works as a lever to shift the weed straight up and out).
While I weeded I had one of those moments where you get lost in time. I don't think anyone even noticed me there. That was kind of weird. I was there to look at bikes and instead I was weeding and apparently not out of place. Perhaps this is due to so much happening at the Environment Centre on Saturday. There were all the bikes, stall holders and people there for that. The regular garden working bee was on and there were even a couple of ladies having a cup of tea on the porch.
Some of the people milling about were really interesting. Most had ridden bikes to the event, looking very fit and toned in their I'm-riding-my-bike-around-town-clothes. Everyone was in a good mood and out enjoying the glorious sunshine. I watched a stall holders response when someone asked him about a price for some front gear rings he was selling. His response as he walked across his sheet to the potential customer and the fingered the object was "Oh those...$90." "Ok." "Actually, $80." I'm not sure why I found this so cute and it gave me a little giggle. Perhaps because in this interaction the man selling the items seemed a bit dottery. He wasn't old. He wasn't young either, but he certainly wasn't old enough to be dottery. And this just seemed like he just couldn't make up his mind (rather than being a shrewd salesman).
I also found the interior of the bike shed fascinating. I'm not sure if that's what the Environment Centre call it, but it appeared to be a maintenance and storage area for bikes, so this is what I'll call it. Along with the areas obviously used (or once used) to do bicycle maintenance it had some old posters inside advertising events long past, pictures of people on bikes riding huge scary looking tricky things on mountain and downhill bikes. I think these latter posters are supposed to be inspirational in this context, but I think the people in them are just plain showing off... ;) Then when I turned around there were piles of tyres and a young boy playing with a tyre pump so amazed at how slowly the lever will sink back down if you let it do it by itself that he called his brother over to look.
Back outside I find myself negotiating bikes lining the paths. Bikes everywhere. So many bikes. Everywhere I turn there are more bikes. A small boy rides along on a bike, leans it back up against some others and stands there running his hands over the handlebars the way an adult will run their hands over the bonnet of a much coveted car. Such an adult behaviour. I realised then that I've never seen a child respond to an object with such restrained longing. I found this a strangely beautiful and intimate moment between a young a bike he will never own. Potently powerful.
Just like riding your bike instead of driving your car.
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