An ode to girls on bikes
I love you. Every time I see you, I love you.
I’m not sure why exactly. Does a girl really get hotter when she gets onto a bicycle? Is there some kind of cosmic shift that can change the way someone looks when they’re on a bike?
Alas, I too tried to be a girl on a bike, once. It was glorious for all of the three months it lasted. Now I live in a city where the roads are treacherous and the drivers are insane.
No more girls on bikes for me. But I know you’re out there, somewhere, slinging your bag across your body or stuffing it into the basket at the front, silently swearing at the errant bus drivers who all seem to be out to kill you and stopping to see if the girl who’s fallen off her bike is okay.
Also, your pictures are all over tumblr, which makes the world a little more bearable.
Thanks for that,
Devil’s Food Cake
PS. Am I a bad feminist for fetishizing desiring you as a group? If I am, I’m sorry. but maybe you shouldn’t look so damn good on a bike. Just sayin’.