The horse is my bike is my car.

Gratitude for wheels.

I had to take my bike into the shop recently for a worn out chain and routine tune up. Being a bike commuter every day this summer has helped me realize that bikes, like cars, need regular maintenance and care.

And like horses that tire or engines that sputter, bike chains can stretch, wheels can loosen and not spin “true.”

I just got my bike back and am grateful for how happy I am.

Through this bike, I’ve been able to give someone a second chance on Craigslist, meet the owner and mechanic of a local bike shop near my work and feel more like a part of the city than if I was driving.

Perhaps it’s because on a bike: you see people.

Before Henry T. Ford, we got around on foot and horses. But, the dear bicycle (invented in Scotland) has persisted as the iron horse of hipster-modern-save-the-environment culture.

I feel like I have my car back again. I mean, now hat I’ve invested in this bike: I’ve got to give it a name.

My old car is named Beorn after the bear-man in J.R.R Tolkien’s ‘The Hobbit.’ Beorn is a 1987 Volvo 240 DL. A tank of a car.

And now I’ve got this Diamondback Parkway bicycle; Bilbo.

The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began.

I will follow as long as I can on my bike horse that’s like a car to me.