I didn't get lost, kidnapped, hired or eloped in Paris.
(Sometimes there isn't a whole lot of difference between any two, or all, of the four items on that list, is there?)
I did, however, have my portrait painted by an expatriate artist:
Actually, that Oskar Koskoschuka painted that portrait more than a quarter-century before I was born. Was he envisioning a better version of me?
Seriously, though...I saw that painting during my just-ended (boo-hoo) visit to Paris.
You haven't heard a day-by-day description because I really filled my days there and wasn't getting back to my hotel room until the wee hours of morning. By then, between all of the bike riding, museum and cathedral visits and socializing, I was tired, though in good ways.
Perhaps, in reading the previous sentence, you might think I shouldn't be calling this blog "Midlife Cycling" anymore. But I'll continue to do so because, well, what else am I going to call it? Anything with "Old" or "Senior" in the title just wouldn't have the same ring. Besides, I want to stick to "Midlife Cycling" as an act of defiance, just as I continue to speak French for as long as I can get away with it after getting home from a trip.
But I digress...and now I'll confess: I simply wanted to spend a few days un-tethered to my electronic devices. I didn't turn on my laptop and or answer e-mails on my smartphone unless they came from my friends in Paris or anything else related to my trip.
I mean, when the spire of the Eiffel Tower is peering from behind l'Ecole Militaire, across the street from my hotel (the Derby Eiffel), the Seine is a five-minute walk away, and art, great food, friends and new bike lanes--real ones!--beckon, why would I want to spend time with my face in front of a screen?
During the next few days, I'll tell you more about my trip...including, of course, where and what I rode!
I didn't ride this bike
as interesting as it looks. Parked outside a boutique in the "Village Suisse" not far from where I'm staying, it's the kind of bike that's all but impossible to find in the United States.
One thing I love about it is that it's a testament to how a well-made older bike can continue to serve someone, if in a different way from how its previous owner(s) rode it.
Just about any bike "of a certain age" will need to have its tires replaced. (I must say, though, that even a decade or so ago, I read and heard that owners of Raleigh three-speeds from the sixties or earlier will try any and all things to keep the original Dunlop tires--which, as I understand, were exclusive to Raleigh three-speeds--intact, if not ready for daily use.) Also, if the bike had caliper brakes, it will need new cables and pads. Chains and pedals also are often damaged, worn or missing. Finally, if the bike had a leather saddle, it might be dry-rotted or otherwise damaged from not getting the care it needed.
So it's no surprise to see new tires (or a front wheel) on this bike. As the bike has a coaster brake and, therefore, no derailleur or other shifting mechanism, there weren't any cables to replace. I don't know what kind saddle originally graced this machine, but it's a bit of a surprise to see something that looks like a Brooks Professional--albeit with holes punched in it--with such upright bars.
I really would have liked to ride that bike. I mean, really, how can you not love something with a reflector like this
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even if it isn't the original?
I couldn't ride this bike. (Well, I could have, but I don't steal bikes--just lovers and spouses. ;-)) But I did get to borrow one somewhat like it--what seemed to be a French-made Dutch-style city bike--for a day.
Unfortunately, I neglected to photograph it, but it took me along the Left and Right Banks, and up to another "date" with my friend Jay.
About Velib: It's been a long time since I've seen a site or service so frustrating to use. When I typed in my information--including my home address and phone number--in the requested format (phone number with country code selected from drop-down format, the area code and number without any spaces or characters that aren't numerals and my address in the air-mail format), the site "auto corrected" them to the American format: (1 (212) 555-1212; 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, DC, 20001, FRANCE) no matter how many times I went back and corrected it. Then, when I tried to buy a pass, the site said it couldn't process my request because my phone number and address weren't in the required format--which I typed in, repeatedly.
For years, I told people that I loved Paris and France, with the exception of Charles de Gaulle Airport. (Then again, how many airports do people actually "love?") Now I can add one other thing about this city and country that I don't love--and, in this case, actually hate: Velib Metropole, the official name of what everyone calls Velib.
