When cycle blog reading people see a title like "The Other Woman" they naturally make the assumption that "she" is yet another bike. Car enthusiasts use the expression all the time for their secondary passions too. Indeed, I have posted on three bikes in just such a manner in the past. In this case, however, "The Other Woman" actually refers to a woman. I love her. It's a good thing Mrs. Rantwick is OK with my fixations on unreal women like Mother Nature and my new flame, Billboard Bike Woman:
She speaks to me every time I ride by, whispering sweet bike path nothings filled with the promise of freewheeling sun-dappled romance and a nice red wine buzz. She is a stylized, unreal swoopy-figured lady purposefully crafted to drive me mad. She is the natural advertising result of the current popularity of cycle chic, transportation cycling and many people's deep love of red wine; in the immortal words of Meatloaf (the only true authority on love), two out three ain't bad, baby. Cycle Chic isn't really my thing... although maybe I'll make an exception in her case.
Now, contrary to the abundant evidence otherwise, I ain't stupid. I can see through this billboard lady's wine and dress and bike and basket. I know that she is really just another famous woman, repackaged for the gentle cycling wino set:
I don't care. In fact, her less refined and more lurid past in the mud flap trade just makes her even more attractive to me. I mean, everyone has a past, right? Who am I to judge?
Yer Pal,my latest devastating crush
Now, contrary to the abundant evidence otherwise, I ain't stupid. I can see through this billboard lady's wine and dress and bike and basket. I know that she is really just another famous woman, repackaged for the gentle cycling wino set:
I don't care. In fact, her less refined and more lurid past in the mud flap trade just makes her even more attractive to me. I mean, everyone has a past, right? Who am I to judge?
R A N T W I C K
