Christchurch is really really flat. Almost freakishly so. It’s on the Canterbury plains so it’s to be expected I guess.
Anyway, the most efficient way to get around is, of course, by bicycle. No hills! Fuck yeah! When I moved here a few weeks ago, I was absolutely thrilled to be able to bike everywhere, because I LOVE biking but I HATE biking uphill just as equally. The next stage, obviously, was to buy myself a bicycle.
This is the fun part. I’m extremely fussy when it comes to my bicycles. I don’t just want one that gets me from A to B. I have to look fucking COOL riding it as well (or at least, have the coolness of the bicycle balance out the crushing humilation of wearing a lame helmet). Trademe has heaps of bikes, but none were just right. I was quite clear on my expectations-
1970s-80s Raleigh-20 style bicycle with a BELL and one of those cool padded seats and chopper-like handlebars. A bright colour would be a bonus.
It took a month and a half, but then I found him.
Pepe and I were just strolling down a road in town, when I saw it. Shining and red, love in the form of a bicycle. I was instantly besotted. He was chained to a pole outside an antique shop, and I rushed forward, cooing with delight. I didn’t even know it was for sale, I didn’t care, I was in love. Pepe patiently waited til I’d calmed down and we moved on, me gushing about how lovely a bike it was, and also feeling quite sad about having to walk away. We went into Starbucks and I popped into the bathroom while he ordered.
I came out, and Pepe was gone. Puzzled, I sat down at an outside table, when suddenly I heard what can only be described as the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
DING-A-LING!
I whirled around and there was Pepe and the red bike, shining in all it’s perfect glory, and it was mine. That wonderful fucking awesome boyfriend of mine had bought it.
He got to name it though, being the purchaser, and- him being the evil satanic warrior he is- chose “Little Death Fuck”. Hmmm. We’ll have to see about that.
