It is not even a midlife crisis. I passed that expiration date decades ago. I mean, I’m almost 76 years old.

Thing is, I didn’t pluck one out of a catalog, all shiny and new and bristling with speed and 18 gears, and potential. And maybe an electric motor….

This one was leaning up against a garage entrance on Calle 28 de Abril in Colonia San Antonio, like an early morning mezcal-sopped tourist on shaky legs. It was tethered to a rope from inside, and it had a for-sale tag, but I had no time to read it.

It just looked so sad. Covered in dust, a patina of rust over the frame.

I strode past, as I was late for Pilates.

“Well,” I said to myself, “if it is still there when I return, I’ll take a closer look.”

And it was.

Drats.

The bike, it turns out, was the lead dog for a mid-week garage sale. Inside were racks of clothing, stacks of CDs, and piles of curios. Presiding over it all was my friend CC Stark and her daughters, Lily and Lucy.

The bike belonged to CC’s late husband, Mario Osorino Rodriguez.

Mario and CC owned the popular restaurant Cha Cha Cha, a few doors down from their garage sale. Mario was the chef and keeper of the mole, and the effusive CC presided over the front of the house. It was the Cheers of neighborhood eateries.

My discerning eye assessed the situation very quickly: “This looks very much like a bicycle,” I told myself.

Indeed, it was.

The bicycle was one of Mario’s projects, said CC. One of a few that were left unfinished with his sudden passing. Another, a small motorcycle boxed in pieces, was snapped up pretty quickly.

I can’t explain it. The overwhelming urge to finish what Mario had started swept over me. And I happened to have the 900 pesos necessary in my wallet. The deal was done before I realized it.

I hadn’t even noticed that both tires were flat. Or that the seat and handlebars needed raising to accommodate my 6-foot-2 frame. But everything else looked intact. So, I huffed and puffed and pushed the bike up the hill five blocks to my home.

On the way, some things occurred to me:

1. I don’t know how to fix a bike.
2. I don’t have the tools to fix it if I did.
3. Even if I had the know-how and the tools, I have no place to work on it.
4. I haven’t ridden a non-e-bike in years.
5. San Miguel isn’t exactly a bike-friendly town with its hills, narrow cobblestone streets, and homicidal drivers.
6. I may be losing it upstairs.

This is what you might call a dilemma.

ORIGINAL CONDITION

As in such cases, I do what I’ve always done: call my friend Efrain Gonzalez.

Efrain knows things. He knows people. He knows San Miguel. He knows what an idiot I can be.

He also knows who can refurbish this bicycle.

As so happens in this town of small miracles, amazing coincidences, and fortuitous encounters, Efrain was in the process of buying his own used bike, and he knew just the guy to refurbish both our bikes: Romeo Neftali Cervantes.

You may know Romeo’s Gorilla Garage. If not, you’ve probably seen his work around town. His vision is what you might call post-apocalyptic – he calls it Rat Art — cars that look like they’ve survived the final devastation. They often have a rust patina; roof racks with water cans, buckets, and beer cases; chopped and lowered hoods and bodies; Rat Fink graffiti and slogans.  And they run like Swiss clocks.

I hesitated. This bike already looks like Romeo had artfully distressed it.

But Efrain was right. Romeo saw immediately what I needed — and more.

ROMEO’S HANDIWORK

Over several weeks, he took the whole bike apart, cleaning up what needed cleaning, replacing what needed replacing, and greasing what needed greasing. He gave the frame a beautiful, deep blue, shimmering coat of paint.

When we first met, I pointed to my Navy blue T-shirt, he nodded approvingly, and nailed the paint job.

He added new hubs, a rear derailleur setup, cables, and spokes.

Romeo was great, sending me pictures and alerts every step of the way.

A few days ago, he texted me a picture of a shiny new bike and the words, “Mira fue una restauracion normal! La bicicleta esta en funcionamiento ahora!”

ROMEO NEFTALI CERVANTES

Romeo brought the bike from his Gorilla Garage near Tacos Don Felix in Colonia San Felipe to his new Rat Rod Art gallery in Colonia San Antonio, at 20 de Enero Norte#32. Did I mention that he is also an artist? Romeo creates sculptures, often incorporating discarded car parts into his tableaus. The gallery should open in a few weeks.

And, it is only a few blocks from where I live!

The perfect distance for a first bike ride. 

A few mostly flat blocks. I huffed and puffed it all the way home.

Romeo did a great job.

The total cost of the bike and refurbishing?

Less than $185 usd.

Now, what do I do with it?

Ride it, I suppose. There are some quiet streets and uncobbled ones on which I can regain my cycling legs and balance. Oh, I can pedal to the gym — once I sign up.

Mostly, I just wanted to see Mario’s project through.

I hope he likes it.

CC definitely approved:

“Woweeee! Of course, I approve.
What a beauty.
What a great idea.
What a lovely tribute to this endearing relic!
Live on, crazy blue bike!!!“

Can you see why it was so much fun to go to Cha Cha Cha for dinner?

Then I jokingly thought: “Hey, CC! Who you calling an ‘endearing relic’?”

That’s when it occurred to me, I saw myself in that dusty, rusty bicycle. I, too, am an “endearing relic.” Endearing –possibly – but a relic just the same, in need of some serious refurbishing.

I have plans for later this year that will never be achieved unless I take some serious steps now to improve my physical and mental state. 

At the moment, I am exactly that rusted bicycle with the flat tires being pushed uphill with much huffing and puffing. 

My friend Romeo performed miracles, turning that old bicycle into something sleek, new, pristine, and road-ready. My own refurbishing will take longer. Swapping in new parts is not an option. Nor is turning back the clock. I will have to work with what I have.

Thank you, little bicycle. You have provided me with the metaphor I needed.

It is time to get to work on this “endearing relic.”

DOWN THE ROAD

I suspect that after a while and a few close calls, and too much huffing and puffing, I am going to look for a young San Miguelian who needs a bicycle to get to school or work.

In fact, as you look around San Miguel, it is clear that cycling is enjoying a moment of popularity. And maybe one of necessity.

There are more bicyclists on the roads now than I recall in my nearly eight years here. Both commuters and recreational cyclists.

So, this has me thinking …

What if we were to reclaim old bikes and refurbish them as Romeo did mine and turn them over to people who need them? The Free Wheels for Workers Foundation? The SOB Oldsters (that’s Save the Bikes) Foundation? Something to think about.

If you are going to start shouting about how dangerous cycling is, keep it to yourself. Cycling is dangerous in every city until the number of cyclists grows so large that cars have to slow down, drivers have to become more conscientious, and politicians realize they have a new constituency.

Did you know that Amsterdam has more bicycles than people? It wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t until the late 1980s that bike use started to climb. Now the city is laced with bike lanes, bike racks, pro-cycling laws, and a motivated populace. 

Let’s not even start on e-bikes, which I predict will outstrip car and motorcycle usage in San Miguel in the next five years.

Meanwhile, let’s see, before my first serious bicycle ride, I need to get a helmet, a security chain, a toolkit, a bicycle tire repair kit, a bright colored vest, a water bottle ….

Postscript: My wife, Rose Alcantara, suggests that I also leave all my medical/insurance information with a reliable friend while she is traveling.