The Perfect 10 - or - How do I know if I'm in love?

-Saturday April 2nd, 2011

Less than half an hour into our first date, I crashed her into the mud. We went down hard, skin scraping on pavement, leaving a smear of red. The front wheel caught between the shoulder and wet grass, clipped, and threw me to the ground.

I crawled off the highway, dodging cars zooming by at a hundred kilometres an hour. She sure is a temperamental one.

At that moment, I decided that she was a girl but I didn't know what to call her yet. She sure is a lovely sight for sore eyes - black shimmering steel with gorgeous unadorned chrome and a rakish, aggressive profile.

The crash tore a gash in the saddle and scraped the smooth, metallic finish - but this is a woman who would cut off her nose to spite her face. I am fearful and respectful of her resolve. She could easily kill me if I gave her an excuse.

Excuses such as : checking out someone else's wheels, not paying attention when she speaks, cheating (definite no-no), riding while inebriated, and just doing the wrong things (which covers a million possible contingencies).

She's fickle, twitchy, unforgiving, and a little bit "squeeky". But it was easily the most fun I've had in a very long time.

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Armed with ample protection (3 locks), lubricant (2 kinds! - one smells like bananas, and the other goes on wet and stays wet), hand towel, and hex key set, we set off for the rolling hills of Eglinton Ave. I've always hated Eglinton for the fast traffic and never ending series of neither here nor there hills: not long enough to be serious climbs, and not steep enough for the payoff on the downward slopes. In other words, Eglinton represents everything about Toronto that I hate. Not big enough for true scale or density (ie versus New York or Taipei) and no depth of personality (ie versus San Francisco), just cracked concrete with thousands of unfeeling drivers in cars, going about their daily lives.

But with S - she's made me fall madly in love with Eglinton. There were moments of pure unrestrained aggression - the rip-off-your-clothes, jump-your-bones, and growl-at-the-world rush unleashed by endorphins and other pleasure chemicals. For a moment, I became wolverine, but no matter how hard I pushed, she was unyielding - urging me to go faster, laughing at my puny muscles, always a step ahead of me.

She was only truly happy at maddening speeds - when cars and buses no longer pass us by but instead hold steady beside us as we approach the upper speed limits of the city.

With another hill ahead of us, all I could think was - wow that was fun, let's go again. and again. and again.

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We arrived at our destination: MissionFest Toronto, hosted by Global Kingdom Ministries, at the corner of Markham Road and Ellesmere. Neither of us were the worst for wear - I lost some blood and she's got some gouges and scratches. War wounds  - celebration of a new beginning.

I've done this twenty-five kilometre trip before with my old friend - the Fuji Absolute - who is definitely like a guy friend. Dependable, stable, able and willing to go into the trenches, jump into foxholes, dig me out of trouble, and protect my life, even when it puts him directly in harm's way. He's my go-anywhere, do-anything bike.

S is just the opposite. But oh boy did we have a lot of fun.