My Big Boned Girl

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Her mother was a racer and her father was a Cadillac.  My girl takes after her mother in shape and her father in size.   Her smooth ride more than makes up for her heftiness and slow start.  Bike-riding men drool over her curvy frame and wide seat.  From her bell to her lamp hook to her spokes and frame, she is 100% authentic.

Bessie, the 1950 Raleigh 3 Speed bicycle, found her way to me a few years ago.  I had cast my wish for an old-school bike out into the universe and that call was answered a few days later by a lovely woman on freecycle. Bessie and I have toured around the rolling hills and villages of Berkshire and across the Carse of Stirling. She has been my commuting transport, my grocery hauler, my lazy sunday ride to a cafe, my conversation piece.

Her expansive backside won't hold standard child bike seats.  Only one of the 3 gears works and her brakes only work some of the time. She is old.  Maybe should be retired.  But she is mine.

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