Remembering Puddles
Puddles was made up of two wheels, a lightweight frame detailed with black and red. She had pedals that were blue and handlebar grips to match the pedals. Her tires were thick. Tall too. She could push through snow with grace and drift around switchbacks with elegance. She was made to do anything. With an Angled top bar on the frame she allowed me to wear a pretty little sundress while the two of us would ride to the farmers market weekend mornings. In the cold cold winter months of Fairbanks, Puddles would wait patiently for a cold morning that the car wouldn't start so that we could have an excuse for being late as the frozen gears and red cheeks squealed to a stop before ski practice. Puddles has been my companion, and friend for the past five years.
The day she came home was monumental. She drained an 18-year old’s bank account to just $52 and filled a soul, not knowing where the next years were going to take them. Puddles and I had a symbiotic relationsh really. Without me she was a heaping pile of rubber and fibers and cord and metal. Without Puddles I was a stationary, sterile and unimaginative lump of skin and muscle and bones. I brought puddles to life and Puddles brought me to life. Thats love right there damnit. The day puddles fell off her rack on the back of my car was the day her new life began. She is off having an adventure of her own now.
"On the move with Puddles—embracing the thrill of the ride and the journey ahead."
Puddles watched me grow up. She saw two boyfriends, four years of college, she was slobbered on by more dogs than you could imagine, she traveled all around the country from Alaska to Hawaii to Minnesota to Idaho. She watched me cut my hair, she heard me sing, she saw me dance and she felt me cry, she saw parts of me that only came out when was just the two of us. I saw puddles age as well. Perhaps we did it together. I felt her handlebars get gummy, listened to her licking and skipping derailer, watched her paint become scratched with every crash and road trip, and tasted the mud that she would kick up to me on wet days. I will move on from Puddles eventually, but will never forget the light she brought to my life. I am incredibly grateful to have gotten the privilege to be the rider and friend of Puddles the past years and can only hope that she is being treated with tender love and care by whoever the lucky person is who picked her up off the road. Thanks, Puddles for being my ride or die. (hah, literally). Every bicycle I ride from here on out, I will spin my legs fast and drift corners hard and jump scary jumps in remembrance of you.