The Bike In Question.

My son has a pink bicycle.

And I kinda hate it.

He’s almost four now. He’s wanted a bike for about a year and a half. We’ve done a lot riding as a family – he’d hang out in the burley en route to parks, shops, what have you. So he’s had bikes on the brain for a while. And we’ve heard about it.

Although, to be honest, he’s into pretty much any means of locomotion on which he can travel at speed. So we were thinking scooter, maybe, to start. Then maybe graduate to tricycle. But then we learned about the bike at preschool. The Dark Red Bike That Goes So Fast. And we realized we were thinking Atari in an Xbox world.

Okay. A bike. Maybe a little early for us, but The Man’s mind was, unlike my bed, thoroughly made up.

So we went all in, we started, as a family, looking for a bike. But no, we were told. Not A bike, but a PINK bike. Not red, not white, but a pale, rosey compromise between the two.

We found one on Craigslist, and my son now rides a pink bike.

And I kinda hate it.

This was a surprise – the hate. I really thought I’d be okay with it. I’ve tried to overcome this, but it can’t be reconciled.

See, it’s impossible to carry.

It’s a Schwinn, with a good, solid body built for a boy to crash repeatedly, which means it’s heavy. And it has training wheels, which poke and bump and ruin any attempts to shoulder the frame like a full-size, or carry it like a briefcase (my calves are done with that, thank you). And the handlebars and front wheel turn the full 360, so you can’t grab there securely. And it’s too low to roll without bending over, and just…seriously. There’s no freakin way to carry it. And I carry a lot of things. I am a shit-toter of no mean ability, and there is no way to heft that stupid thing that won’t give me bruises.

Maybe someday he’ll be able to ride there and back again, as opposed to just there, and I can come to love it as much as he does. That day, however, is not today.

At least we got it in pink, though. It’s the Little Man’s favorite color. He wanted a pink helmet, too. So we spray-painted his blue one to match. He even helped me choose a pink shirt the other day – I need to wear more pink. Gotta break those gender stereotypes, model good behavior, ya know.


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