So, when I was a kid I never really got a bike. My brother and sister both had them, and sometimes when I was a kid I would ride their old bikes, but I didn't get a new one until Robbie went to college when I was 12. We lived on the side of Lookout Mountain, and the only place I could ride was a side street that I had to get to by hauling my bike through my neighbor's VERY steep yard.

But finally, when I turned 12, my brother, dad, and I all got pretty decent mountain bikes. Mine was green. I remember insisting that I wasn't going to get a girl's bike. And that if my brother and dad were getting boys bikes, then obviously I would too.

I don't really remember riding my bike that often after I got it. Maybe a few times up on the street above my neighbor's house (but it really was a VERY steep yard that I had to drag my bike through, and they weren't totally psyched about me going through it.

I do remember taking one "mountain biking trip" when I was in high school with the family, plus my friend Katie Rowe and her dad. Super fun. And I do remember loading the bikes up several times onto our massive, impossible-to-correctly-put-on-the-back-of-the-car bike rack to take our bikes down to the Riverwalk for Sunday afternoon bike trips.

But I didn't really appreciate my bike until my junior year of college when my friends Jill, Thankful and I all moved into our first "grown up" (read: very college) house. We lived about two miles from campus, and, as my birthday present at the beginning of that school year, Jill got me a massive (read: the most massive ever) basket for the bike. So I started actually riding it to class. I don't really remember how often. I wish I could say every day, but that would be a big fat lie. I do feel like I rode it several times a week around town - to frisbee, to class, to run an errand. It was great. Super super slow on the hills. Really really heavy (the basket added about 10 pounds). But I trucked along on it and got to where I needed to go.

When I moved to Atlanta in 2005, I brought the bike with me. Honestly, I don't remember riding it hardly at all when I lived in Midtown. More often when I moved to Kirkwood. I remember biking to the coffee shop or to game of the week or over to Ben's house for a quick game of tennis. And, then, when I moved to the West Coast, I made the decision to leave it at my parents' house so I could take lots of unnecessary things with me to the West Coast.

And it just sort of sat at my parents' house for two years, collecting dust, occasionally being ridden when relatives came into town. I was so excited to find it in November 2008 when I moved back to Chattanooga. For the three months I was in town, I definitely rode it more than I had ridden it since I lived in Chattanooga the last time. I feel like we got seriously reacquainted. And it was lovely.

Spending a year in a biking culture really changes how you look at bikes. To me, I don't really even understand taking a car somewhere if it is bike-able. I don't really think much at all about biking 6-9 km to get to see friends or go to the grocery or get to frisbee (translation: 4-6 miles). So, despite everyone's cynical attitude toward me on a bike in Atlanta (potentially the most car-crazy city in the world), I've been super excited to be back here and attempt to get around with MARTA and my bike.

it has definitely been a little frustrating at times. Angela and I biked to goaltimate the other night (she was on her road bike. I was on my green, gigantic bike). She would sort of speed ahead without even trying while I was sweating and pedaling as hard as I could. But I didn't really mind. Annoying, but doable. And I definitely enjoyed going to the farmer's market about four miles away (despite almost getting run over while I biked there) and filling my bike basket up with lots of lekker treats. And feeling healthy while doing it. And I like biking to get to frisbee. It is a nice warmup and makes me more excited to be there.

So last Wednesday afternoon when I went coffee-shopping, after deciding I couldn't work from home another full day without wanting to kill someone, I went to one of the busiest shopping areas around, locked my bike up, and congratulated myself for getting out of the house on such a cold day. I did have the momentary fleeting thought as I walked closer to the coffee shop, "hmmmm...there is a closer bike rack to the coffee shop that I will be able to see from the window." But I quickly dismissed that idea as paranoia and went in and got a bunch of work done for three hours.

(omit paragraph that we all know is coming where I walk out of the coffee shop, round the corner, and am somehow not surprised that my bike is not there).

I mean - the worst part of the story is maybe me running after the cops in the parking lot and asking them what I needed to do once I realized my bike had been stolen. The look of amusement on their faces said, "Seriously? do you really think we care, little girl?" They told me i could call and report it and even said, "We'll drive around and look a bit." (gigantic smirks on their faces). Jerks.

I don't think I have ever realized just how violated people feel when something gets stolen from them. I can't really imagine having my house broken into. I feel so frustrated and angry that my little (slash gigantic) bike is gone, and I didn't even get to say bye. We had a long 14-year history together. I loved that bike. I was only beginning to appreciate it. And now it's gone.

I went today and picked up my new bike. It's really pretty. It's a hybrid - made for people like me who don't really want to race and also don't want to be on trails. It's light, with sturdy wheels. I can already sort of maneuver it no-handed (well - at least for 30 meters or so before quickly grabbing back on). I feel in control on it. It's really pretty. It has a rack and is way more practical than what I had before. And it's really pretty. It fits me. And one day soon, I'll probably both love it and appreciate it.

But it doesn't have a gigantic basket. And I don't have to exert all of my power to get up moderately-sized hills. And I think it's going to take me a while to make the change.

Kate Wilson
kawilson830@gmail.com