Gretchen

I bought Gretchen on February 27 at a used bike sale in town for the unbelievable price of 35 €. I knew she was mine as soon as I saw her: a sleek silver frame, handy book rack, front and rear fenders, nifty ring-a-ding-dinger, pedal-powered lights, long distance capabilities. Woot woot! I was excited. I tried her out and took her home. Over the next days and weeks I tricked her out with a lock and a new set of tubes and tires, and even bought myself a fancy helmet.
I called my bike Gretchen, because, well…she was a girl’s bike. I didn’t hold it against her, though. She was trusty through snow, rain, weeds, cobblestone, mud—what a gal! If I were Donny Boy Quixote, she would have been my sturdy Rozinante. That is, if I'm not in fact Don Quixote already... Most of my daily riding was in between my pad and my school, or getting groceries and the like. It was mainly weekends that I took off through the hills.
And that I did "mit ganz Vergnügen", you might say-- total pleasure. In an easy fifteen minutes I could park among shady beeches down a quiet country lane, with maybe a big rock to perch on and read; within twenty minutes I could be up in a Black Forest tree house overlooking a springing valley or tearing down a mountain path; and within half an hour I could be rolling through a vast wilderness of Badische vineyards. Of course, if I ever preferred I could study around town, maybe in a park amongst a bunch of laughing chidlers, or leaning against a fountain in a secluded part of town, even the cemetery if I were feeling extra creepy. Wherever I chose to roam/hide, Gretchen made it happen.
My longest one-day ride this semester was about forty miles, on which Gretch was a champ. I was joining some Army folks in the French city of Colmar to commemorate the 65th anniversary of the liberation of France, which I’ll talk about more later, and I had to get there by bike. It turned out to be the perfect adventure. I’ll probably talk about all that later, too. For now I’ll mention the incredibly friendly and respectful French people, the fun of relying entirely on my German (as I don't speak French and they don't speak English), a few confusing country roadsigns and rain puddles the size of Bayern.
Ah, another great trip was an afternoon trek to the small border city of Breisach, right on the Rhine River. Breisach is about 20 miles from Freiburg, so it was a good day’s trip there and back. Really all I did there was hike around a bit and eat a bowl of soup, but that kind of thing is my ideal way to spend a Saturday. I remember, though probably romantically so, how as I was leaving the town heading back all the church bells started to ring their 6:00 carols. These bells, the hazy mountains in the distance, the vineyards and the orange sunset behind me are now embedded into how I remember Germany. Neat, neat stuff.
I admit I've become rather infected with this bicycle wanderlust. A Swede I met in Freiburg was telling me once all about his bicycle journeys across Europe. He’s ridden across Switzerland, Austria, Germany, France, Spain, Siberia…on and on and on (not really Siberia). His favorite thing to talk about was a certain pilgrimage he’s biked, actually biked now twice, the “Camino de Santiago”. The trek extends over 2,000 kilometers across France and Spain and ends in the Spanish city Santiago de Compostela.
I think I could really get into that, or at least that sort of thing. Not necessarily in Europe, but anywhere. I've heard about several good routes in the Midwest I wouldn't mind starting out on. Perhaps next summer...