"You have to name her," he said.
His bike is Vicki Vale. If my bike rides with Vicki, she needs a name.
I hadn't seen this bike in ten years. She was rusting slowly in a box in my parents' garage while I hauled myself around Minneapolis and Olympia and Seattle on a mountain bike I thought was tougher than this one.
I couldn't even remember what she looked like until I opened the box two weeks ago: nice old black and yellow Centurion frame, Le Mans on the crossbar.
"She's French and she's not a girl, she's a MANS!"
And, I decided, he's gay. I have a gay bike.
He needed a French name. Within minutes, I knew. One of the only things I remember from my high school French class was affectionately calling someone my "little cabbage": mon petit chou chou.
Please meet CHOU CHOU THE BIKE.
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
can you add a "le" before the chou chou?
now you all need to come to louisville and ride with me.
are you too busy riding around on mon petite chouchou to be bloggin? get back to work, lady. us working stiffs are dying for a little distraction.
Post a Comment