I have fond memories of tooling around in my small New Hampshire hometown on one of our family's old black Schwinns. Back in those days no one wore helmets, most of us rode barefoot, and about the fanciest anyone got was sparkly banana seats and ribbons hanging from the handlebars. Then I grew up and lived in cities, and bikes stopped being about lazy hot summer afternoons riding to Friendly's Ice Cream for a mint chocolate chip cone. Bikes were a Lifestyle Choice, with Special Clothes and Equipment required. It just didn't seem like fun, so I stayed away.
Now that I live in a very small city, and I've sort of re-learned how to ride again (it IS possible to forget how to ride a bicycle; the trick is not to get on one for 20 years) I've been thinking about getting a bike of my own. So yesterday I went to a bike store for the first time in...well, ever, and it was a depressing experience indeed. Giant angry wheels and 30 speeds and logos logos logos, everything over-engineered and ugly, like sneakers.
So I came home and I thought, well...I wonder what Schwinn is doing?
And then I came upon this thing of beauty. And my faith is restored.