Jessica Svendsen

Adeline is a Brooklyn-based bicycle shop that distributes classic, if expensive, bicycles. A graphic designer turned bicyclist enthusiast, owner Julie Hirschfeld found that the “design of these classic bikes that attracted her, combined with the comfortable upright ride that led her on a search for her perfect bicycle. After resigning herself to the fact that most of the city’s bike stores cater to either serious performance bikers or the enthusiast fixed-gear scene, she realized there was an opportunity for a new type of bike store that focuses on comfortable, relaxed riding for pleasure with an emphasis on the beautiful European city bikes that women ride in Copenhagen and other bike-centric cities.”

See all of the models and accessories on the Adeline website.

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The Tweed Run is an annual bike ride (est. January 2009) through the streets of London. But unlike groups like Critical Mass, these cyclists ride about the capital in style. Donning all types and shapes of tweed, along with caps, knickerbockers, and a wide variety of facial hair types, these cyclists recreate the style and experience of London at the turn of the century.

Even though I extremely dislike London, one day, I would love to join this distinctively dapper ride.

Vanilla Bicycles, a bicycle shop in Portland, Oregon, make gorgeous commuter bicycles. The handlebars and wood-slated baskets are unmatched. Bicycles like this make me want to move someplace warm, where I can ride my bike at any hour, even in January.

If I ever need to purchase a new bicycle (and I would never unnecessarily replace Eleanor), a Linus Bike is under consideration. See more models here.

Occasionally, I revisit my print sketchbook and I recently found this essay. Composed before my senior year of high school, this essay describes why I decided to ride my bike. In high school, I was known as “the girl who rides her bike,” but it was probably that fact, and this particular essay, that got me to New Haven. (The above photograph is a small print of FarMor and FarFar riding their bicycles in Denmark.)

With the passenger singing the theme song of The Wizard of Oz as background music, the car driver yelled out the window, “Where’s Toto?” Before I could respond, the car zoomed past, leaving me wobbling on my bicycle on the last inch of asphalt road. After overcoming my initial shock, I recognized how perfectly I fit into the movie. Even without my wicker basket full of groceries, my lone bicycle in a society of cars rides along a path of its own.

I have not always been a bike rider. For my first two years at high school, I had never thought of cycling or even walking to school. Only members of the band descended to that level.  Though my school is only one mile away, I always had members of my family drive me to and from school. I would watch out my window and pity the few pedestrian students strolling along. I had been sucked into one American misconception: to be cool is to sit in a car.

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