The Great Bike Phenomenon

It all started one hot June. It was around the 4th, nay, it was the 4th. My mother, the illustrious Judy Masters, desired one thing for her birthday (the 4th of June) and that was to feel the wind on her face like she did as a five-year-old atop her very first Schwinn (she got it for Christmas that year, it was green and pink and had tassles on the handlebars). Since that time she has matured into a love of purple and wicker baskets. Being the genius children she brought us up to be, my sisters and I, along with the help of Dear-Old-Dad and his credit card, found the perfect beach cruiser in lavender for her. We got all the accessories except the tassles, some things are better left in the past. She was thrilled when we presented it to her and has ridden it almost daily since - with the exception of the brutal winter months of Buffalo.

Now the infatuation has moved past the honeymoon stage with her bicycle and they have found themselves in the depths of a normal, healthy relationship.

One year later around Father's Day, Dear-Old-Dad started snooping his nose around our local Bert's Bikes and cycling websites. He sniffed out a brand new obsession and brought it to startling heights that can only promise more opportunities for comical relief. We purchased him the opportunity to pick out his own bike from the store, and buy he did. What began as a seed of curiosity and a need to be part of the great bicycling his wife had partaken in, Dad discovered his perfect pal. The bike came home, shined and silver. Not only did the bike come home though. Along with it came a helmet, top of the line, of course "gotta have the best" he said, a neon spandex t-shirt that matched the neon green lining in his padded shorts (which no one saw, but that's not the point is it?) elbow pads for his aging bones, a tire pump, two waterbottles with holders that attach on the body of his bicycle, a computer program to track his progress, and a subscription to cycling magazine.


This man really knows how to take obsession the next level, it's sickening. What began as a soft glowing romance between mother and bicycling hobby was quickly turned into a gross obsession with all things cycling for my father.

This is the life I lead, hate or love it, there are vast opportunities for comedy if one takes the proper perspective. Who knew having a degree could be this useful?