The New Purple Bike.

Meet Violet Beauregarde, my new purple ladybike.  Isn't she lovely?  I hope she is much nicer than her fictional counterpart, and that she doesn't have a thing for chewing gum.  I can't wait to take her out for a ride.

The Cherub, the Climber and I (on my old bike) have been riding to school most mornings.  Climber rides on his own, like the big grown-up high-schooler that he is now, and Cherub and I go at Cherub-pace behind him.  It's a 5-kilometre ride for us, and it is a lovely, refreshing and exhilarating way to start the day. Far more pleasant than driving, especially in late summer and early Autumn, when the mornings are crisp but not cold.  I love riding behind Cherub. We don't go very fast, but we can have little chats and he looks very sweet bobbing about, as he pedals, and checks to make sure it's safe when he crosses roads or tramlines, and gives little waves of acknowledgment to car-drivers who are waiting for us to pass.

The more I ride, the less fond I become of The Lycras, those aggressive and righteous cyclists who think wearing neck-to-knee lycra gives them the right to behave like fascists. They're all men, of course, the Mean Lycras, as if you needed me to tell you that. The first day Climber rode to High School on his own, he messed up doing the exit from bike-path to school crossing and was abused by an intolerant Lycra, which is akin to hassling a Learner driver, in my opinion, and you shouldn't do it! One of the things I like about cycling is the feeling of being part of a community, a two-wheeled, zen-like, planet-saving, healthy, gentle community, so when angry Lycras start abusing other cyclists, it feels traitorous as well as unpleasant.  If you're going to be a road-rager, get back in your car, I say.