I ruminated on the CSA share vs. refurbished bicycle dilemma for much of the weekend, mulling over Kathryn’s comment on the last post and a conversation had with Mom on Friday evening en route to my decision. Everything that they’ve both said is true: I can still go to the Farmer’s Market, I can still support local growers, I can still volunteer at a farm on occasion if that’s what my heart desires — and getting around on Saturdays will be far more fun on a lovely old bike.

Lady

More importantly, though, is how I feel when riding along on my ’77 Schwinn Suburban. Because ride her I did — in spite of rust and dirt and grime and a frozen brake cable and the (original) nearly flat tires that won’t hold air for anything — for short bursts of space in between Mom’s garage and my front patio. With iPod earbuds in my ears and my shirttails dancing in the breeze, I was 16 years old, dreaming pretty dreams and certain that something dreadfully interesting was about to happen. Carefree and wild and on top of the world win out every time.

The photo is a link to my Flickr photoset, put together to document the refurbishing process.

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