bitch

It happened so innocently. It was a nice, quiet, winter’s night. I was ensconced in ‘Christine’, my evil chair that I mentioned once or twice before. The fireplace was on. I had my dog, Leroy, on my lap, and I was scratching him behind the ear. Actually, at this point, I was nearly asleep, caught between worlds, mesmerized by the heat, the comfort, and the television playing something I don’t quite remember.

Then, there it was…a sigh. Really, a whisper more than a sigh, but it was there, nonetheless. As I refocus and pay attention to my surroundings, I see a young lady riding through Paris on a scooter. Then, another sigh, only a little louder this time. I glance over at Anne, who is in much the same position as I am, covered up in her favorite blanket, nearly dozing on the sofa. Am I hearing things, I wonder? She sighs again, and I realize that, no, it wasn’t my imagination.

This goes on for a few moments….Anne sighing, me ignoring, Anne sighing again. A light bead of sweat begins to form on my brow. My wife sighing at this particular moment means something. I’m just not sure I want to know what it is. Finally, the sighs have escalated to the point where I can no longer ignore them. They’re loud enough that my neighbour, Suzie, can probably hear them. And so, I decide to take the plunge, and ask her, ‘What’s wrong?’ And Anne sighs out ‘Nothing!’.

Let me take a moment here to discuss the famous ‘nothing’ sigh. A woman who sighs’ the word ‘nothing’ to her significant other generally means trouble to said ‘other’. At least, it does in my case. The nothing sigh usually means either money or performing some monumental task of gargantuan proportions.  But, at this point, I’m stuck. I’ve already shown my poker hand by asking ‘what’s wrong’, and all I have is 2’s and 3’s, and Anne has the proverbial Royal Flush. But, I digress…

But, just what is she sighing about? I assemble the evidence before me. There’s a young lady. Can’t be that; Anne already is a young lady (-ish). She’s on a scooter. That could be it. She’s always wanted one. This lady is in Paris. Well, now we’re on to something. Anne loves Paris. Let me re-state that. Anne LOVES Paris. This must be it. She’s melancholy about the ‘City of Lights’. This is a good thing. There’s not much I can do about that, is there? She has a Paris themed room upstairs. I’ll gently guide her up the stairs, bring her a mug of hot cocoa, and see her off to her favorite place! Easy as pie! Except, it isn’t Paris.

And this is how we so innocently became bikers.

Well, perhaps ‘bikers’ is too strong a word here. ‘E’Bikers’ is what we have become. I used to own a real motorbike. Nearly got killed on it. And Anne….well, Anne just wasn’t going to go get her licence. And so, I thought I was safe. No motorcycles or motorized devices for us that would require extra licencing, thus maintaining the safety of the local citizens, and the integrity of our community. Alas, such was not the case.

E-bikes, it turns out, do not require a special licence, nor do they require extra insurance. They look just like motorized scooters, actually much like a Vesta, but are battery powered instead, and can go a whopping 32 kilometers an hour!! It also turns out that there are not expensive. She had me at ‘cheap’. But what really clinched it was that it would be an excellent way to show our oldest son how to drive without my having to take extra meds.

And so, as you walk about in this fine spring weather, getting your exercise, shaking off the cobwebs of winter, I must tell you….beware! There’s a new gang in town. We’re e-bikers! We don’t take ‘maybe’ for an answer. We’re thinking of getting tattoos, although we’re likely inclined to just stickers for now. You can’t hear us coming, because we don’t make any noise!! Unless I honk the annoying horn at you. Then you’ll be plenty scared. Just stay off the sidewalks, and you may be safe.

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