I, Cheapskate?

    A couple of weeks ago on a nice Friday afternoon I got yet another bee in my bonnet, this particular one buzzing the idea from my bonnet to my brain that instead of driving the 1.6 miles from my house to the YMCA I should rather ride my bike, thus getting the benefit of a double work out.
     So I did.
     I arrived at the Y, chained my bike to the bike rack and was heading for the building when a woman who looked about my age who was also walking towards the building gestured towards my bike and asked me, "Is that your bike?"
     I told her that it was, to which she replied,  "Oh, it looks just like the bikes we used to buy the kids when they were young.  Those were some great bikes. They just never wear out, do they?"
      I do believe the lady was just being pleasant and complementary, but her observation left me feeling suddenly self-conscious about my bike, which is indeed an old bike.

​     A neighbor gave the bike to Tom about 25 years ago,

...after the neighbor wasn't able to sell the bike for $10 at garage sale.

​   So, yes, it's an old bike,

...but, as the lady pointed out, it still works fine, at least for my purposes.
     Still, I'm not used to people making comments about the state of my bike, and I don't know why  the observation of a complete stranger should concern me, but for some reason it did, a little, because after she noticed my bike it struck me that she must have also noticed the old length of hardware-store chain and the padlock that secured my old bike to the rack.

      Then my newly-acquired self-consciousness about my bike spread to my standard-operating work-out clothes: an old Mickey Mouse shirt with  bleach stains,

​...and my old baggy, spotty, faded, frayed-at-the-edges shorts.

     I'll bet that lady thinks I'm strange, I thought, a real clinical cheapskate with my ancient rusty bike and post-thrift-store gym clothes. 
   But then why, I continued soliliquizing as I hit the eliptical, defending myself against, well, myself, should I go out and  invest in a new  Schwinn and coordinated Lululemons  when, dang it, this old stuff still works?
     This is a question I've grappled with before. Half of me would like to replace our kitchen cabinets, installed in 1972 when the house was built,

...the bedrooms' furniture, most of the pieces family hand-me-downs born prior to the second half of the last century,

...all the floor models, warehouse bargains, thrift-store and second-hand pieces that fill our house,

...while the other half of me thinks, But what for? all of that old stuff still functions perfectly well. 
     My husband Tom once said to me, "I used to think you were cheaper than me, but now I know you're not cheap, you just don't give a s**t.
      Tom's observation is not completely on the mark. I do give s**ts, but selectively.
       While one hand has pinched pennies, the other has spent lavishly, on musical instruments,

​...top-of-the-line strings and piano teachers,

...educations, traveling,

...and the one piece of furniture in the house that I care about:

    When I returned home from the gym I told Tom about the comment the lady had made about my bike and how funny it had made me feel.
     "So why don't you go out and buy yourself a new bike?" he said.
      I looked over my old bike and sighed.  "Nah, this one still works fine."

"Equal And Opposite Reactions"
         by Patti Liszkay
is available at
blackrosewriting.com
amazon.com, 
barnesandnoble.com,
Kindle Edition, and
Nook