I (don't really) want to ride my bicycle.

I don't own a bike. Unless you count my old bike that's still in my parents' garage in Santa Fe. I do, however, still have my helmet with me. Because, you know, a bike might come along and I need to be prepared. And in fact, a bike has come along! Josh's grandma is lending me hers. It's not a "grandma bike" though, don't worry. (Well, except maybe for the side mirror attached to the handle bar, but if that makes it a grandma bike I'm really okay with it.) Tuesday Josh and I went for a bike ride, but I didn't like it too much. Sure, it was fun to ride (he kept saying gleefully "isn't this better than running!"), but it was also very scary. We were riding in town, and therefore on streets and in traffic. I never did that growing up. The only time I've ridden in traffic like that was once on a bike tour in Germany, and when a bus pulled over and I should have stopped but freaked out about losing my tour group and went anyway, a busload of people yelled at me in German. Okay, maybe not a busload, but one guy definitely yelled. Anyway, the point is that riding with cars scares me. And it's bad enough huffing and puffing up a hill on a bike, why add the extra threat that if you don't hurry that car trying to turn might run you over? It's all too much.