My bicycle was beginning to show its age. The brakes were making strange noises, and I had to start dragging my feet a little to help stop it.
The chains were loose and came off every now and then at inconvenient times. The back tire wobbled, and some of the 21 gears on the machine quit working.
There is a number 21 painted in silver with a circle around it on the frame to let observers know I suppose that this is not just an ordinary one-gear bike.
But lately I have been able to switch to only about a third of the gears. I should have painted over the silver 21 and replaced it with a 7.
I finally took the bike in for an overhaul. Regina got it for me 14 years ago, and I have been riding it almost every day rain or shine with little maintenance except for some new tires.
The head mechanic at the bicycle shop walked around the bike a few times, shook his head slowly from side to side and typed things into one of those little computer tablets.
Then he gave me the estimate to repair it. I’m pretty sure he had alerted some emergency medical personnel to be on standby before he hit me with the number.
When the estimate for repairs was nearly as much as the bike cost when we got it, I told the folks at the bicycle shop that I would just buy a new one.
They said they could probably get one just like I had and that it should be here by mid-2024 and asked if I wanted to get it on order.
My first thought was about that old line, “At my age, I don’t even buy green bananas.” At my age, I don’t think I can wait three years for a new bike to come in.
There were a few new bikes scattered around the big store, and they asked if I wanted to look at something different from the one I had been riding all these years.
My bike, they explained, was designed for more “mature” riders. It is a cruiser, and you can sit straight up on it like you do in a rocking chair and just pedal instead of rock.
The others they showed me required acrobatic skills. The placement of the seats makes it mandatory for riders to pedal and hold on to the handlebars for dear life while their rear end is up above their shoulders.
There were some of those electric bikes there that appeared to be much more comfortable than the racer-type machines I sat on. But the price tag on them was about what I paid for my first house.
I had not noticed when I rolled my bike into the shop that there were just a few new bicycles scattered around the showroom floor. The last time I was there, it was crowded with them.
When I asked about it, I got all that narrative about the global shortage of bicycles because of the pandemic and the familiar rhetoric about problems with the “supply chain.”
It was the same kind of stuff we are hearing all the time at grocery stores and other places. There is a problem with the “supply chain,” so there is no toilet paper or Blue Bell ice cream sandwiches.
There is a shortage of pickles because glass to make the containers is hard to come by.
I have been riding bikes all my life and always had a no-frills one speed from Western Auto or one of the big discount stores.
When I needed parts like pedals, seats, or handlebar grips or even a whole new bicycle, I went to those places and got them that day. Nobody ever said anything about the supply chain.
REPRINTED FROM THE NATCHITOCHES TIMES