wheels and feet

Any morning that dawns with a temperature between 5 C and 30 C, I can be found out touring the neighbourhood, comfortable and happy on my new Townie.

I've owned at least six bicycles in my life and Townie is the best one yet: easy-to-ride retro styling with up-to-date technology, light, quick and manoeuvrable. Even before Townie, however, I've loved every one of my bikes, from my first -- my aunt's second-hand, no gears, pedal brake behemoth inherited when I was 11 -- to the second-to-last, a retro Schwinn Cruiser, the first bicycle I used for long-distance touring.

From the first to this one, bicycles have a curious impact on my physiognomy: put my bottom on a bicycle seat and my face breaks into a smile. I just can't help it.

As my morning exercise takes me around the neighbourhood or my splendid High Park -- since this 400 acre park is across the street from my home, I think of it as my park -- I notice one difference between those of us on wheels and those of us on feet. Those of us on wheels are happy. Those of us on feet are grimacing.

When I look at the grinched faces and hear their laboured breathing of the runners, I want to shout: get a life, get a bike!

I mean, have you ever seen a smiling jogger?