Stealing Your Number From the Repair Log
Marni Duffy - Philadelphia, PA
Discouraged by my out of shape body, and the lack of FUN in my life, I sought out a bike shop to repair my mom's old road bike. I was 22 and in art school, and a friend told me to go to a local shop. "They're super nice, and the guys are pretty hot."
I brought my nasty, old bike in, embarrassed about my lack of fitness and equipment. The guys were super helpful, and yes, one of them was quite attractive and charming! I came back in a few times with various issues, staying to hang out and chat while they wrenched. I felt welcome and supported in my attempts at riding again.
A few weeks passed, and I didn't have any excuses to go in to the shop. I was hanging out at my parents' house with my two older brothers. I got a phone call from an unknown number, and answered it.
After a few minutes, I finally realized who it was: the mechanic from the bike shop! He was just calling to say hi! It wasn't the hot one, it was the Scottish-looking guy with crazy eyebrows! I guess he was kind of cute?
After we got off the phone, I told my brothers how weird the phone call was. They informed me that he was trying to hit on me, and that I should invite him out for drinks, and they would come too. They insisted I call him back, but he was already too close to home to come back out.
Long story short, many bike shop hangs, road bike rides, tandem rides, and cargo bike rides later, here we are: married for 9 years with a 7 year old, 6 year old, and 3 year old (named Ryder). He is still working in a bike shop and I run my small business by bike!blog comments powered by Disqus