I don’t know who I think I am, but I was web-gogglin’ (yeah, like without the beer goggles, and not about hot humans but wares) over this hybrid contraption, called a kick bike today. I showed Sue the site and its picture and she sighed. She knows I have terrible balance. Riding a bike makes me dizzy. Why would this newfangled cyclo-whatever be ok?
But look! It has a basket for Tiny Dog. We would be fetching as we scooted along. There would be a comfy bed in there, of course. Maybe a mini seatbelt. How Europish.
|Here's another option. Wickered shade screen, essential!|
I guess this new spring weather has gotten into me. Given me a scent of hope.
But Sue is right. Riding a bike-scooter thingie is as likely as learning to fly. It’s makes me a little cantankerous.
And how did I end up here? Likely a virus I picked up first year in vet school, and it rooted around in my vestibular system, amok. At least, years later, I am able to walk the dogs with relative ease, if George would stop being such a loud-mouthed bossy jerk on her leash. It’s embarrassing. Pulling so hard she’s cutting off air to her trachea, but the arf arf arf ARF still comes out just fine.
She just so darn happy there’s no snow and wants everyone to know: I’m the queen of the world.