Brechin is a typical small, rural Ontario town. Larger than some. Smaller than others. It services farmers and cottagers in the area – food, post office, building supplies, coffee shop, car repair, fire hall, community centre, gas, library, bank, churches, and a cemetery. It’s a one-corner town where a major highway and a service road intersect. One set of lights.
The town is on my bike route, on the the quiet, paved road that leads to the big lake, and the scenic, lakeshore road that I cycle. On the return trip, I sometimes stop at the coffee shop for a coffee, and to observe, and sometimes talk with, the locals.
I first noticed it last year. Painted bikes at the side of the road. This year there are more. It seems an imaginative, civic group anxious to added interest to their town for all those passing through, started painting unused bikes bright colours, and decorating them with flowers. The other day, I walked the street and counted 20 different bikes strategically located in front of the local businesses, or historic buildings.
This is my kind of town.
Chas: “WHAT! is that what you’re going to do with me when your done?”
Lou: “Hahaha. Chas, you would look real pretty with pansies draped over your handlebars.”
They appreciate bikes. And, even have a bike path (sort of) running west to the big lake. But I could never see myself putting Chas or Lou to rest in front of a bank. Or a food store. When they are done, they will hang on my wall.
Chas: “Whew. Am I glad to hear that.”