the illusion of choice

We've been bike-shopping these past couple of days. We used to own a bakfiets, a Dutch cargo bike, that was excellent to ferry little D around when he was, well, little.

We sold it last spring. D had become quite independent; he can easily ride 10 km on his bike. The bakfiets had also become too heavy for me to ride even without D in it.

It went to a lovely home, eager to make fond memories with another 2-year-old. D too had been 2 years old when we got the cargo bike.

Now that we had sold it, KrA and I wanted to buy hybrid bikes for ourselves so we could go bicycling alongside D. Last year, we were away for most of the summer, so our search for bikes was cursory at best.

This year we resumed bike-hunting with renewed gusto. With no travel plans for the summer, we were determined to make sure we had bikes to ride alongside D.

We first went to Canadian Tire. The bike section was full of all kinds of models. We stood there flabbergasted for a few moments, then realized that our best course of action was to ask someone for help.

A very harassed-looking employee directed us to a stern-looking one, who did help us by looking up on the computer what options were available and then getting us to try a couple of different models to determine the right size of bike for us.

Finally, he said that the particular category of bike we were looking for — path and pavement bikes — were not yet available in our size!

More than a hundred bikes on the floor, and not one was suitable for us.

We made our way to Decathlon a while later. They had only a handful of models, and the very first bike I tried was a perfect fit. It was a cruiser though, so I opted for a hybrid model with shock absorption from the same brand. KrA found what he liked too.

We didn't place our orders right away, but came home and did a bit of research, then placed our orders online later last evening.

This afternoon our bikes were ready for pickup. We eagerly made our way to the shop, got our bikes accessorized with kickstands. I got a nifty basket on the handlebar for mine.

KrA and D came cycling back. I drove back home with my bike in the back — we had to bring our car back home, innit? — then rode my bike to meet KrA and D halfway on the bike path.

It was amazing to ride back home, the three of us, feeling the mild almost-spring breeze on our face, the sun in our eyes, and the sky blue with the promise of brighter, longer days to come.

This entire experience reminded me of something my boss at my summer internship in Montreal said to me, almost 10 years ago. She said that while job-hunting, a lot of people moan about how few opportunities there are in the market.

"But," she said wisely, "you don't need hundreds or thousands of opportunities. You just need the one that's the perfect fit for you."