Quick, name all the songs about cars you can think of. Ok, Gary Numan (for all of us with grey hair), pretty much anything by Bruce Springsteen…oh, and what about “Greased Lightning”? Of course, Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” has to make the list, as well as “Little Deuce Coupe” by the Beachboys.

My point (besides noting that I’m old and getting older) is that the CAR has achieved a certain cultural notoriety that I doubt bicycles may ever achieve. Somehow, in comparison to the flaming hoods, thundering exhaust, and smokin’ rubber of our friends with combustion engines, the humble bicycle is just too simple and too slow to be worthy of narrative mystique.

And yet, as I spent a happy and mucky hour today wrestling with ancient brake pads in the November sunshine, I realized that simplicity is part of the bicycle’s erstwhile charm. For the measly cost of $12, I replaced my back brakes in an hour and was back in the saddle later that afternoon to buy fruit and return library books.

It’s true that I’m less mechanic than pseudo-fiddler with a wrench and a smile, but bicycle brakes are designed to be user-friendly, so that even my awkward thumbs can handle this simple task.

So, I’ll continue to sing along as Bruce Springsteen goes racing in the street, but my heart will always belong to my trusty Rocky Mountain two-wheeler, my happy steed that costs pennies to run, and needs only bananas and pizza for fuel. No drama, no messy exhaust, no worries…”Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”