Bicycle: Amsterdam


Who doesn’t love some good old fashioned bike porn? Confession: I didn’t learn to really ride a bike until January 2012 while living in Paris. After “quitting the game” at the tender age of 6 thanks to my brother smashing open his knee and trying again at the age of 12 only to bust open my own knee, I decided that through hell or high water I was going to become a biker. I got the Velib (aka the bike share program where you rent bikes and park them at the various stations across Paris) and started bombing around the city. In the snow. Over bridges. Around city buses. Around the Arc de Triumph. I should probably be dead. Okay I’ll stop bragging and make my point: I love bikes. I think they’re beautiful machines if you will, particularly in Europe where they are often custom designed and adorned. While bikes in the Netherlands are as common as small, overly groomed dogs in Los Angeles and therefore sometimes hard to appreciate for the uniqueness, I found myself trolling the streets and sifting through the bikes, finding eccentric colors, intricate seat covers, and magical decay. The bike above wasn’t anything spectacular but the juxtaposition of the rusted teal against the brick caught my eye. Then of course a cat (who, naturally, was orange) emerged from underneath it and followed me down the streets for nearly an hour as a clicked along happily. Cats and bikes. What more does a girl need?


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