One of my bike rides this week took me down to Baltimore Bicycle Works, our local worker-owned coop bike shop, to make an appointment for a tune up and some new bar tape. I went with my friend R., who is getting the electric bike her dad gifted her in better working order. It took both of us making each other go to take care of this task, and I’m so glad we have each other to overcome the inertia that can keep me, at least, riding on a bike that needs a derailleur adjustment for far too long. Friendship is magic!

Being in the shop reminded me of my first visit here. I was in Baltimore in July 2011, looking for a place to live. I rented a three speed bike from BBW, and my friend drove me and my bike out to UMBC so I could meet with my new boss and then ride that bike back to the city. It was July in Baltimore, during a heatwave, and I could not possibly have been less prepared for that ride. And three speeds were not enough for me, someone who learned to love riding a bike on the flat streets of New Orleans. I didn’t even bring water with me.

I had my meetings, picked out a new desk for my new office, and got on my bike to follow the Google Maps directions back to Station North. I took Wilkens to Caton Ave to Old Frederick Road, up and around to Fulton, right on North Ave. I have lived her for coming up on 15 years, and wow, I would never go that route now! Fulton and North are both basically freeways, and they are my last choice routes, even with the bus/bike lane on North Avenue. I had arrived in Baltimore excited to continue my New Orleans biking lifestyle, but I was quickly humbled. And grateful for the people who sell cold water at intersections in the summer.

I moved around a lot after I left for college in 1993. Baltimore is the first place I lived for more than four years as an adult, largely because it’s the first place I lived as an adult that I didn’t know I’d need to leave because I graduated or the job/postdoc was temporary. I was thrilled. And for the first couple of years I was also scared. What if I don’t get to move again, to live in a new place and start all over? Turns out I can do that, but I don’t want to. I’m so lucky the place I happened to land a job without a determined end date was in Baltimore. When my boo suggested we think about buying a house, I resisted, but then we did, and I’m so glad. A mortgage keeps you hooked on jobs and places–that’s why labor unions opposed federally-backed mortgages for a long time–but for me, many years in, it’s working for me. Here’s hoping the attacks on higher education and the fields I teach end before I ever have to leave this city or this job.

My bike needs just a few tweaks, all of which I could do for myself but don’t want to do for myself. I am grateful to pay the experts at BBW for their time and labor. I chatted with another bike shop patron while we waited to finalize estimates and make appointments. “Is that your bike over there?” Yes, I said proudly, because I do indeed think my bike is gorgeous and deserves the attention of strangers. “I love those old frames.” they said. I have been riding my Surly LHT for almost twenty years, but I don’t think either of us are “vintage,” exactly, but I was happy for the reminder of how long we’ve been riding together, and how much we still have ahead of us. I’m the luckiest, and I love my bike so much.