Pash on Pashley

I first saw her at Harris Cyclery in Newton while picking up my son's bike. It's officially spring, and the cycling season is starting. (That is, of course, if it ever stops raining.) Now presenting Her Royal Highness, the Princess Sovereign of Pashley, "hand building British bicycles since 1926."

Oops! Is my Anglophilia showing? I'll tuck it away then. Yes, the name is a wee bit over the top.

But just look. A wicker basket. And a dynamo-operated headlamp that's powered by pedaling. And a rear carrier. And the most musical little dingdong bell. It manages to sound whimsical and prim both at once.

I can picture myself pedaling along country lanes. Perhaps to visit the vicar at the parsonage? No. Wait. That's an Agatha Christie novel. But I can see myself pedaling to Whole Foods and virtuously bringing back groceries on the carrier. Look, Ma. My carbon footprint is shrinking! Of course, I doubt I can bring back a week's worth of groceries for five on that carrier. Not unless we all went on a serious diet. And there is the matter of hauling the Princess up the hill to my house. She may be beauteous, but I think she's a sturdier lass than her svelte titanium racing peers.

Of course, we have no garage to house the Princess so until we build a garage/shed, I'll just have to dream.