Instantly, I thought of a million places I would go on a bike like that! The freedom! The wind having its way with my hair. Me! Tooling down the road.
"You want a tricycle?" He asked.
"It's not a tricycle! It's a bike. And look! Think of all the library books I could fit in that basket!" I shot back.
He looked again at the senior citizen perched atop my fantasy ride. (She seriously was no more than 75).
"I'm afraid you need to be a little older to pull that one off."
Says the guy who doesn't even own a library card. How could he possibly understand?