They’re newly married and poor. “Let’s get bicycles,” he says.
“We can’t afford to,” she says.
“Well, we could try that bike place on the north side. I heard they sell second hand bikes cheap. I’m not talking anything fancy like a 3-speed.”
The north side is the seedy side of town, but they venture out anyway and find the seedy bike shop next door to a seedy hotel spilling a few drunks out the door. They scurry into the shop. The owner directs them to the jumble of used bikes out back. After some searching they find two that will do.
Bike riding isn’t as much fun as it used to be, she thinks as she pedals furiously trying to keep up. “Slow down,” she calls out.
“But, I’m not going that fast.”
“I’m not. Honest.”
She huffs and puffs and curses under her breath.
The bike outings become a chore for her. Really she’s not in that bad of shape, but if he doesn’t slow down … And she could do without the snide comments.
Friends come over one day and the men decide to go for a ride. “I’m not riding a girl’s bike,” says his buddy.
“Okay, okay, I’ll take hers. You ride mine. We’ll be back in an hour or so,” he calls over his shoulder to the women.
“Back already,” she asks as the men push the bikes up the sidewalk five minutes later.
“Yeah.” He looks rather sheepish. “Um … er … ah … your bike … the back tire is rubbing on the fender. That’s why you had such a hard time keeping up. I … er…”
“are very, very, very sorry for all the snide comments and will get my bike fixed pdq.”