I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike

Dear bicycle,

I missed you.

Here in the garage you look old and rusty. Your tires are flat and squirrels back in Virginia have chewed up on your wires and seat. I believe one of them peed on you. I should have not left you on the deck for so long.

Remember how we use to get together every weekend and go places, far away places? Remember how we used to ride to DC and stop in Georgetown and grab some coffee, and on the way back we used to stop behind the Reagan airport and watch airplanes land up close?

How about that time I took you all the way from Arlington to Purcellville, tied you up to a tree and forgot the code to get you out? Then I had to ask a firemen to pry you out with the jaws of life?

How about that one time we rode over one hundred miles in one day and got tendinitis?

Or how we rode even in the snow, just because I couldn't wait to take you out?

Oh, and how about that time you ran over a snake, and all the other little critters we have seen?

And when we made the trip to Mount Vernon sans breakfast and by the time we got there I passed out?

Well, I've been missing all of that. My legs are jiggly, my butt is wide and my heart is out of shape.

My doctor says we are not ready for each other yet, but baby is asleep and my mom is watching him. Plus, this disgusting seventy five degree California weather with this endless and awful blue skies are inviting us out.

Wanna go for a ride?