Patricia and Me: Still in the Honeymoon Stage

Today was the perfect day for me to brave the Chicago streets and take Patricia for a spin. 70 degrees and sunny on a Saturday, which means Logan Square is bustling with young hipsters, families, and me, awkwardly navigating my Schwinn Breeze and trying not to hit a car. Or a stroller. Or a pedestrian.

The 8-year-old version of myself would scoff at my bike riding skills. Jay and I used to cruise up and down the hills of Mill Road for hours in the summer, no helmets, neighbor dogs tearing after us, and I really don’t recall ever getting off my bike to find my leg muscles twitching. In my defense, Patricia’s front tire is a little flat. And I don’t exercise. Wait, I take that back: in the last two months, I think I did my Self “Bikini Ready Fast” workout twice. Each time, my entire body hurt for the rest of the week. That counts, right?

But anyway. Patricia and I had a nice little ride today. I think I’ll take her back out tomorrow, at least to air her up a bit. In the meantime, I need to figure out how to look less like a geek in my helmet. Any and all hipster credibility I get from Patricia’s sexiness is completely ruined by the terrified look I have on my face every time I hit an intersection. It's something like this:


(Yeah, I just took a picture of myself, wearing my bike helmet, while sitting at my kitchen table. You needed to see it to fully understand.)

My confidence was starting to grow mid-bike ride. Then I spotted an attractive guy coming my direction. Riding a red Schwinn. A RED SCHWINN! He smiled at me, I smiled back, and promptly lost control of Patricia and narrowly missed a parked car.

I avoided eye contact with my fellow cyclists after that incident.

I’m considering riding Patricia to work tomorrow morning. It’ll be a big step in our relationship. Just have to work up the courage first…

Introducing…the best bike in the whole world

You might be wondering: How many posts can Alison possibly talk about this EFFing bike? The answer: A LOT.





I’d like to introduce Patricia:


I can think of no better name for this beauty. She was my grandma’s, and my grandma’s name happens to be…Patricia! Now, my grandma goes by Pat, but that just won’t do for this bike. It’s Patricia. Remember that.

D and D (Dad and Debbie) delivered Patricia on Friday night, and of course my Dad shined her up for me beforehand. Check out how she gleams in the sunlight.

Saturday, after a lovely trip to the Chicago Botanic Gardens and to Goose Island for dinner and delicious beer, we got back to my apartment, and I think Debbie could tell I was antsy to take Patricia for a spin. (My dad was falling asleep into his beer at the time.)

The next thing I know, I am suddenly 12-years-old again. D and D walked around the block while I circled around them a few times. (I wasn’t ready to brave the traffic on Belmont without a helmet.)

The wind was in my hair. I was grinning like a maniac. I passed D and D and waved wildly. I almost ran into a car. My neighbors out on their porches looked increasingly confused at the sight of a grown woman on a bike riding around in circles on a Saturday evening. I kept grinning. Then I forgot how to brake.

The next day, we went to Target and picked out a helmet. Still looking for the suit of armor.

All in all, a great weekend!

And just a warning to all you possible bike thieves out there: Stay away from Patricia. We don't want this to happen. Yeah, it's another Pee Wee clip. Accept it.

"IT'S JUST ME! WITHOUT MY BIKE!"




"I bought this one hour before my bike was stolen! WHY? WHAT'S THE SIGNIFICANCE?!

I DON'T KNOW!"

1 Day Left!

And I still don't have a helmet. On second thought, I probably should get a full suit of armor if I really expect to ride a 3-speed Schwinn around Chicago.

Or Aurora:






GAME ON!

But seriously, I think I need a helmet. I'm terrified.

The Soundtrack of Today

I can't stop listening to Stars today. "In Our Bedroom After the War" is the perfect album for my mood and the rainy weather, although I'd also make the claim it'd be pretty sweet background music for when I'm pedaling around town on my Schwinn Breeze. Don't worry, not on headphones. Ideally, the music will be coming out of invisible speakers in the sky.

This is what will be playing:




Okay, now that I've bored you with the soundtrack of my life today...in other news:

1. I finished In Cold Blood by Truman Capote this morning. I'm appalled that I just now read this masterpiece. Incredible. Read it. Now.
   
2. BOO to you, California. How long is it going to take to give gay men and women their equal rights as human beings?
   
3. And last, but not least: Eileen had her baby today! I can't wait to meet Baby Carapia. Congrats to Eileen and Aron!
   

Countdown to Schwinn Breeze: 11 days!

Yes, it's true: In 11 days, I will be the proud owner of a green, 3-speed Schwinn Breeze. With sparkly green handlebars. My pops will be delivering this belated birthday present when he comes to Chicago to visit. As if I'm not already fucking pumped to see Papa Hamm—we're going to the Chicago Botanic Gardens!—this visit, he unknowingly is giving his daughter her ticket to Hipsterville. Oh, hell yes.

My new baby looks something like this:

It's so beautiful, it hurts.

My birthday party at Grandma and Grandpa Eckhardt's house this year really was a memorable one. Not only did I have tears in my eyes from stifling laughter throughout our 3 p.m. dinner, thanks to the grandparents' tales from their annual trip to Florida (I'm not sure if they knew it was funny), Grandma E was just so damn chatty that she started cutting my birthday cake before the birthday song. Of course, the three candles were there—"Past, Present, and Future!" (uhh, maybe you have to know my grandma to find that funny)—but a third of the cake was missing as I made my birthday wish. Priceless.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any better, Grandma asks if any of us want a bicycle. I follow my grandpa out to the garage with low expectations. I am presented with the hippest bike the streets of Chicago have ever seen.

I fully expect something of this nature to happen within 48 hours of possessing my Schwinn:



I also hope to be engaging in these types of dialogues:





Life is going to be sweet.