And since I was there I did what I knew I was going to do and bought a new bike. It's a six speed only, where I'm used to 18, although I never use more than four in practice. The wheels are thinner, guaranteeing a bumpier ride, and the pedals are plastic, which may be slippery. But the chain is covered, a feature I haven't seen since Japan; it's much lighter than my current Slovak bike, made for long-legged sturdy peasants but an increasing pain to womanhandle up the front steps; and it was less than $500, where past bikes have started at $750 or more and gone up, with the bells and whistles and all, to well over a thousand. A new lock will set me back another hundred, bringing the whole to where other bikes have begun. And then I can have Old Paint properly serviced (have blanked on the proper word for having a bike tuned-up: could it indeed be 'tune up'?) and keep it for the heavy duty stuff.
That, I suppose, is one load off my mind. Bikes are my mobility aids, until such time (if ever) that my strengthening exercises actually strengthen the bits that keep me from walking more than five minutes. But next on the To Do list is to get a walker, or rollator as they're called. (Next is actually to get my quarterly blood draw and close my tax-free savings account for which I've lost the password, and hire a cleaning service for the kitchen and and and. This would all be much easier with a SigOth to cheer and support me, but such do not come for the asking, or at least not to me.