Tricycle, Tricycle, Tricycle!

 

Tricycle, Tricycle, Tricycle! 

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I want to ride my tri-cy-cle. I want to ride my trike!

Queen, I shall sing you all day.

Do you remember your first wheels?  Mine was a tricycle, all metal, sparkly red. I remember the size, the shape, the feel of leaning over the chrome handlebars, skinny legs pushing the rubber-clad pedals with all my might, wind in my face, tooling down the lane between the house and the barn.

My friend Janet bought an electric tricycle and she is excited. Her excitement is infectious. I caught a case of trike fever.

I have not had an automobile since moving to Mexico. Public transportation is so good here, even in our small town. Then I got used to depending on my helper, Leo, to take me shopping, to conduct any business, to see a doctor or go for an ice cream. Whatever my needs, it was simple to arrange transportation with Leo and he eased any language problem I might have. That last part is a plus and a minus. Made me language-lazy.

I’ll be moving to a small village, v e r y small. I can still get a taxi or the autobus and I have friends there who will gladly take me out and about. No wheels, no worry.

Inspired by Janet, I did the thing we all do now. I went online and looked at electric trikes for seniors. Ah, the array! The variety! The options!

It didn’t take me any time at all to figure I want one with big fat tires and good suspension to bounce over the cobblestones. And a comfy seat with a back and arm rails. A basket in front for when I lean over the handlebars and pedal on down the street to the closest panaderia for an empanada. Add a basket in back for Lola to ride along, nose sniffing the air, ears on point.

Also, it became immediately apparent I want a more expensive one with add-ons so I will have to save a good while before I get a trike.

There are bike shops in town, many bike shops. I have not checked out what they can do for me.  Or in Ahualulco, which is very much a bicycle town and when you maneuver a vehicle through the narrow streets, you understand why so many people ride bikes.  Or, or, imagine going to the huge bike shops in Guadalajara to feast my eyes on the best of the best. I’m all aflutter with possibility.

Michelle gave me some pointers for what to look for in performance. She’s had three electric bikes and loved them, but her bicycle days are over, she says.

I said, “Picture this. Let’s say we all get a tricycle. Here we go, all in a row, you and Ana and Rick and myself, each on our own trike, wearing leather vests, do-rags around our heads, each with a dog in the back basket. We would be a gang. Everybody would be scared of us.”

Michelle seemed to think we would generate more laughter than fear.

That’s okay too. I’m just dreaming the dream.

I want to ride my tricycle. I want to ride it where I like.

Sondra Ashton

HWC: Looking out my back door

August 22, 2024

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