Elegy for Lois

Yesterday was the sort of day that is I will tell you about 2 weeks from now, and I’ll make you laugh when I tell you about it. I’ll use hyperbole to describe the craziness of being in 3 meetings at once, while stuck in a grocery store parking lot. I’ll tell you and you’ll laugh because it was sort of funny. 2 weeks after the fact.

I was preparing for an early bedtime when I heard the doorbell and then Gracie. Neither the bell nor the dog were letting up, so I put on a bathrobe and answered the door.

The neighbour told me that someone broke into my garage. I went out, flipped on the lights. The only thing stolen was Lois. Lois, for those of you who don’t remember, is my bike. She’s not especially remarkable. I bought her 11 years ago to the day because she was a pleasing shade of teal. I bought a matching bike helmet and a wicker basket that I could put library books and cheese from the Italian center. She’s held beer and cat food and the one time I tried with wine it was a bit of a disaster, my basket having no top.

Lois was not expensive, she was not remarkable, but she was mine. Purchased as I tried to find my way past what it meant when your child died and your world turned upside down and everything was sad and a bit hard. She reminded me of other transitions I had made, other bikes I had loved.

She was never the beloved Norco of my childhood, but she was remarkable. While unemployed last year, with a surfeit of time and shortness of funds, I could bike to the library. I could bike to the Italian Centre and spent a few dollars on a coffee, sit on their patio, watch the world go by, and feel less panicked. I figured out things like how to put air in her tires and how to add grease to places. She was the perfect bike for who I was.

I will get a new bike. If not this summer, then early next. I will name that bike and I’m sure I will love it too.

Lois will join a teal Norco. A nostalgic sort of memory about the ways in which a bike moves – not just from place to place but from time to time.

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3 Responses to Elegy for Lois

  1. a says:

    Aw. That sucks. If you have her serial number, you can report it to the police, and they can keep an eye out for it. Most towns have a surfeit of recovered stolen bicycles in their evidence storage, so it might be worth following up in a few weeks.

    I hope that things are more calm…

  2. Donna W says:

    Good grief. I’d feel violated if someone broke into any part of my house and stole something. Especially something I was sentimental about. Such things can’t be replaced, not really.

  3. mark says:

    Bikes can become more than their parts – mine have all been on adventures which I treasure the memories of. But yes, you can make new ones and maybe get an upgrade too.

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