More about biking (and the greatness of women)

There's a great story that I make my uncle tell me everything I see him, it is about my mother, circa June 1974. This was back in my parent's boho days, before they had children (though not long before) and when they were still very much the wanderers.

Essentially the story goes like this. My uncle was out on Queen West one day, this was back when it was still very industrial, and saw my mother, eight months pregnant, outside a Laundromat. Naturally he stopped to chat and saw that she had with her two very large bags of laundry and her bicycle. After talking for a while, my mom got ready to leave, she hoisted one bag of laundry onto the front of her bike and got on, she then asked my uncle to lift the second onto her back (did I mention the woman was eight months pregnant?), he could barely lift it. When he did manage to get it on, she rode off, easy as that.

I often reflect on this story when I ride my own bike around town and wonder why more people don't. I always think that if my mother could do it then, than just about anyone can.