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<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?attachment_id=9759" rel="attachment wp-att-9759"><img class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-9759" title="OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/P2120007-225x300.jpg" alt="" width="225" height="300" /></a>You may recall my recent history with bicycling.

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If your memory is as poor as mine, or if you are new to this blog, you can read all about it at <strong><a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2011/10/11/day-356-my-very-first-concussion-italian-style/" target="_blank">Day 356:  My Very First Concussion.  Italian Style.  </a></strong>

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I did <a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2011/10/16/day-358-picked-myself-up-dusted-myself-off-and-rode-all-over-again/" target="_blank"><strong>pick myself up, dust myself off, and ride all over again</strong> </a>after the accident.  Once.

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Shortly after I returned a friend who is practically a semi-professional cyclist -- we're talking spin instructor in her off time and road biking COMPETITIONS -- was nipped by a car while cycling, knocked unconscious, and taken to the trauma center where she underwent numerous surgeries.  BECAUSE SHE WAS WEARING HER HELMET, she is still with us.  And because of her spunky spirit, she has miraculously recovered like a champ.

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Call me crazy, but I've had no desire to get back on a bike since I've been back home.  My favorite outdoor activity is hiking.  Which means that I am firmly planted on the ground with my own two feet.  And since I don't hike during rattlesnake season, there is NO THREAT OF DEATH while I'm working out.

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My dear friend and September 15 Birthday Twin, Sarah, now lives in a neighborhood where people ride their charming, colorful bikes (many equipped with baskets and bells) to cafes, farmers markets, and other leisurely weekend places of interest.  Kind of like what those lucky bastards in San Diego do, except that Sarah's hood doesn't have an ocean.  Darn.

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Sarah's been itching for a bike riding playdate in this stunning weather we've been having.  She invited me to bike down to a French bistro on a Sunday morning.

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Deep breaths.

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I chose to feel the fear and do it anyway.  After all, I had just come from this . . . .

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<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2012/02/03/photo-du-jour-im-in-italia-not-siberia/p1010175/" rel="attachment wp-att-9437"><img class="alignnone size-medium wp-image-9437" title="P1010175" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/P1010175-300x200.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="200" /></a>

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. . . . and now I had the opportunity to soak in this.

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[caption id="attachment_9750" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="Me and Sarah. We&#39;re alike in so many ways. Exception: Helmet Safety. (Look closely at the bikes.)"]<a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?attachment_id=9750" rel="attachment wp-att-9750"><img class="size-medium wp-image-9750" title="OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/P2120012-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" /></a>[/caption]

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Carpe Diem, sisters!   (And token brothers!)

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My Happy Discovery du Jour for all of my peeps who happen to reside in my fair city:  The croissants at <a href="https://www.vincentsoncamelback.com/bistro/" target="_blank"><strong>Vincent's Market Bistro</strong> </a>taste identical to <strong><a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2012/02/07/photo-du-jour-petit-dejeuner/" target="_blank">those that I had eaten in France</a></strong> only one week prior.

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