Orange cruiser

I passed an orange cruiser while circling campus today on my semi-regular walk.  This bike happened to be for sale so I stopped to check it out. Color was intense, seat of brown leather looked comfortable, handlebars were appropriately wide, and I think it would have fit me perfectly. What is more important is that I would have looked good riding it.

The problem is that I don’t need a bike. I have a perfectly good and sensible comfort bike which suits me in every way. The orange cruiser lacked gears, handbrakes, and other accessories such as a basket and light. To its favor it did have really large fenders and was very bright orange.

I think that one of the reasons was attracted to the cruiser is because it looked like many of the bikes that I most admire crossing campus. Some lucky people who need to cross campus quickly ride bikes. As they ride, they look like they are relaxed and having fun.  An orange bike is a statement; it says look at me, I’m having fun.

The orange cruiser is a metaphor for life. For me, it is about the clash between internal and external, practical and impractical, frugal and frivolous. Many people would simply buy the bike if they had the money. These are the same people who have many of the luxuries I notice, but am too cheap to buy. Things like smart messenger bags, iPads, trendy clothing, and other props that create an image.

The practicality of owning an orange cruiser in the mountain terrain of Utah has a lot to do with why I am able to fight my urge to buy the bike.  While the bike might offer safety features of increased visibility, it would definitely hinder my ability to climb even the smallest hills surrounding my house. I’ve become gear-dependent, peddling like a hummingbird up hills is the only way I can climb them.

My conflict about the bike is more about over-indulgence. I have more clothing, shoes, and material possessions than I need. Often this does not stop me from buying one more thing. Desire is entirely contrary to need. Last week I learned about a new style of minimalist shoe, not the five-toed ones, and ordered two pairs. They arrived at the beginning of the week and it turns out that only one pair fit so the other will need to be returned.  I should cave-in and return both pairs but my curiosity about how they will feel and desire to have something new will not allow this to happen. Fortunately, like the orange cruiser, they are a bright and cheery color.

There are a couple of lessons to be learned from the orange cruiser, the first being that knowing myself should allow me to moderate my buying tendencies. Even if I really needed a bike, this might not be the best one for me. It also reminds me that when I need something, maybe I should think outside the box sometimes and consider going bright or unusual. I’ll know more about this after I’ve had a summer to wear my new bright shoes. Still, I will have to think more about how to have fun in ways that doesn’t involve the purchase of a new bike. The cruiser will have to wait for another less sensible owner.