ride and/or die.

Marriage, man. It’s like, you think you know who you’re vowing yourself to, but then 9+ years into this thing, you buy a house in the city, and your husband suddenly wants you to become the family that rides around on bikes together.

Now, my kids are a timid bunch of people. They cruise around on their scooters with all the neighbor kids, and are lovingly referred to as the “cute scooter gang” by passersby, but they have yet to even attempt to ride a bike without training wheels. They’re the kind ofΒ kids that fall off, get pissed, and then stomp around, yammering on about bikes being stupid.

They are mine, after all.

And as a teenager, I once rode my bike straight into a parked car, but marriage is supposed to be full of compromise I guess, and so I told my husband that I would ride stupid bikes with him, so long as my bike was the kind of bike people would look at and be like “WTF?”

“Mom, I can actually really see you on that bike,” my youngest daughter says of the bright orange and pink Huffy I fell in love with at the store yesterday – the one with the basket on the front andΒ the obnoxious-patterned cup holder on the handlebars. “You could put your coffee in the cup holder and a bag of donuts in the basket…yea, I can really see it.”

It’s like, finally – someone who gets me.

I’ll let you all know if it becomes a reality – for now, I still have no wheels. Of course, I think I may have scared him off the idea completely after suggesting a tandem bicycle built for two.

Something about “crashing” and “yea right, you’d get us both killed,” I dunno.

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