Aggie D & why bike fetishes get you in trouble

When you look at this picture, what do you see? Aggie D, eyes a'blazing, thin arms gripping to the handles...Or maybe the bloke in khaki shorts and a preppy blazer, rejected from something that is undoubtedly fabulous but requires hair covered below the knee?

If you fetishise bikes, the US$13,000 Electra pushie is the undoubtedly the focal point. So shiny, such wide handle bars, handle bars grips....hmmmnnn...E-Lectr-aaaaH

The Electra Amsterdam is a beautiful, beautiful bike, which i doubt I'll ever afford. And as a lady that velocommutes every day: smacking taxis on the boot for pulling-out too quick; abusing taxis for cutting me off to pick someone up from the bus lane; putting a helmet on my head that has just been dropped into a Sydney storm water drain; fighting gravity with heavy bike bags; rocking-up to meetings 'glowing' and asserting for the upteenth time that 'drink-driving laws only apply to car drivers - I can't help myself, I have a pushie fetish. 

And it sometimes gets me into trouble. 

Like two days ago:

I was in Surry Hills, where noticeably of late,  a bunch of spunky young men have  taken to wearing tight pedal pushers, shoes without socks and billlowing shirts while riding fixed-wheel bikes very quickly down Foveaux street. Anyway, anyway...Along comes one with lime green rims set off by white road tyres, a taught frame and incredible curves - I could not take my eyes of it. I even followed this bike (while I could, Mary Jane the commuter gets sluggish at times) for a spell. Until I realised that its rider thought I was checking him out. 

Sure he was cute, but I was checking out the bike! Because I fetishise bikes. 

And then on Castlereagh St on the corner of Bathurst; casually leaning against a pole - sunlight hitting the chrome, hints of colour shimmering from under the seat and red rims, an Angel of a bike. I imagined what it would be like to ride it: shock absorbed, light and intuitive over the bumps, a bell like the sound of 3.30pm...All the while the light had turned green and the council truck behind toots and  pre-coffee barbarians scream "C'mon Love...Ya need a push up the hill do ya?"

Because I fetishise bikes, I stop still in the street when I see a pretty bike only for its owner to come along either super suss that I'm trying to pinch it - or thinking that because I think his bike is hot - we should probably sleep together. 

And I fetishise ugly bikes too...as long as they have cool sticker art. 

When I go City Bike Depot, the bikes must feel like European backpackers working behind the bar in Mt Isa on a Friday night. I feel terrible too, specially since it was pointed out that Mary Jane (my bike) is probably getting very jealous. 

I fetishise bikes, maybe that's why ol' MJ keeps giving me flat tyres?