Jocelyn Lovell Bike

Spring has arrived in Toronto. This has two consequences for Jocelyn Lovell Bike, who was finished last winter just as the snow started to fall:

1. I want to ride him.
2. I can now finally take nice pictures of him.

The question of riding and photographing are closely linked: until I took nice photographs, I didn't want to ride him and get him dirty and scratched; and until it was nice enough to take good photographs, I didn't want to ride him. So now things are in the proper order, and I have taken the archival photographs that will free me to ride Jocelyn Lovell Bike as much as I want.

Keats told the "fair youth" of his "Ode on a Grecian Urn," stuck eternally in a painted half-kiss,

     Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
     She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Well, Sweet Bicycle, you cannot now fade, having been frozen in these photographs. But unlike the fair youth, you can now split into two lives—one preserved eternally in two dimensions, and the other as my ever, ever-rideable (and kissable!) three-dimensional companion on blissful Poplar Plains hill climbs.

In fact, we've just been on our first hill climb—and he is a very nice, svelte vehicle. Also, I am happy to report that the first person we passed—a high school student—saw the bike and immediately exclaimed, and I quote, "Holy fuck, that is a nice fucking bike." Thank you, fair youth!