One of the great things about seeing more and more cyclists in New York is that good old bikes are being restored and repurposed. What that means is that, very often, people will do creative things to make a bike their own.
Such creativity sometimes extends to paint jobs, as with the one I saw on an old Cannondale hybrid:
I encountered this bike and its rider yesterday on First Avenue, near the United Nations. A friend painted the frame for her, she said. I touched it, so I know the flowers are indeed part of the paint job, not decals or other appliques.
She told me her name, which I've forgotten. Perhaps she'll see this.
What does that say about me when I can remember a bike but not a name?
Such creativity sometimes extends to paint jobs, as with the one I saw on an old Cannondale hybrid:
I encountered this bike and its rider yesterday on First Avenue, near the United Nations. A friend painted the frame for her, she said. I touched it, so I know the flowers are indeed part of the paint job, not decals or other appliques.
She told me her name, which I've forgotten. Perhaps she'll see this.
What does that say about me when I can remember a bike but not a name?
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