B is for bici

Italians are wild for bicycles. Milano is full of people balancing children, cigarettes, cell phones, and small dogs on bicycles of all shapes and sizes. But the best bikes, the most charming and european and all of the other things that make your heart take a little extra thump... the best bikes are the old bikes. The beaten-up bikes with histories and adventures stored in their rust spots and baskets.

So Stefano being the stalwart and generous gentleman we know him to be went on a noble quest. He knew I wanted an old bicycle and so he went looking for an old bicycle. He called every store he could find in the telephone listings. They said there were no old bikes to be had. He was certainly welcome to purchase a new, shiny bicycle. Of any color he might prefer. But he did not prefer to find a new bicycle.

And then he went to talk to all the people he knows in Milan. He talked to the baker. The student. The man who cares for the building we live in. No one knew where you could buy used bikes. Or if they knew of a friend of a friend who might be able to find one they were always careful to insist that it had not been stolen. And there's nothing like a powerful, unprompted denial to make you start discreetly moving in the opposite direction.

So poor Stefano gave up. He let go of the dream of an old bike for me for today. A special day on which the surprise of an old bike would be absolutely fitting. And after he gave up he went to the bar for a coffee. The bar on the corner that we like to go to. And he asked our friend, the owner, where it is that someone can find an old bike in this town.

An old bike?
Yes, an old bike.
I have one in the back. I'll give it to you.

And with that an old bike was found. Una bici with a story. Una bici from a friend. Una bici for il mio compleanno.

B é per la bici.