In the late 70s, I astonished my family and some of my friends by packing up my ten-speed and flying to Europe with my then-boyfriend. Our “training” for this tour consisted of a few short rides around our neighbourhood and a couple of trips to the nearest mall, where we bought some supplies. We landed in England, where the boyfriend had an uncle. Arriving at Heathrow on an unusually hot day, we uncrated our bikes, attached our panniers, and headed for the exit; within minutes we found ourselves on the fringes of a fast and furious M4.

It was not an experience for the fainthearted. Soon recognizing the error of our ways, we consulted our maps, but the only alternative that presented itself soon revealed itself as the truck route. Imagine us, two jetlagged, sweaty, teenagers wearing shorts and sandals, trying desperately to balance our loaded panniers for the first time while negotiating those tricky roundabouts, all the while driving on what was, to us, the “wrong” side of the road.

Suffice it to say: the lorry drivers were not amused. It took us hours to reach the Bayswater Road, where the uncle’s flat was located. In its bathroom mirror I confronted a grimy face that looked about ten years older than it had when we boarded the plane. I have never been so grateful for a gin-and-tonic.

Strangely enough, that experience did not turn me off cycling—maybe because, once we crossed the English Channel, we encountered a bike-friendly culture beyond our wildest expectations—a place where everybody, young and old, travelled by bicycle, and nobody seemed to think it a peculiar mode of transportation; a place where you didn’t have to look like a competitor in the Tour de France to feel at home on two wheels.

In the years since, I’ve never lost my passion for cycling, although lately I’ve been able to express it only through spin class, because I no longer own a road bike. My last one was stolen shortly before a cross-country move, and I haven’t yet replaced it.

When I do, I’ll be looking for a PUBLIC bike. The features of these bikes remind me of my very first CCM, with its comfortable seat, upright handlebars, chain guard, and fenders. They make biking fun and low-stress and easy, no matter what my day holds. Because really, for me, cycling is about getting around town and having fun, not about winning a race.

For autumn days, I’ll mostly tuck my jeans into tall boots, and I’ll wear a rain-proof jacket in case of inclement weather. I’ll pop my water bottle and my cross-body bag in my collapsible folding crate or basket, and off I’ll go! I’m really excited about the idea of road trips with my twelve year old daughter—whose helmet I have borrowed for these shots.

It’s great to know that if it’s a teaching day and I need to wear dressier attire, the C7 would allow me to ride comfortably in a skirt and heels. My sample outfit includes my Clarke’s Mary Janes, an A-line skirt, gloves, and of course a helmet, for safety’s sake—but if I were riding around campus only and not on busy city roads, I might choose a hat instead of the helmet, simply for the feeling of freedom it affords. Wouldn't an orange C7 look amazing with the blues of my outfit?

Another item I’d keep close by, especially on my longer trips, is one that came with me to Europe all those many years ago: a copy of Anybody's Bike Book. That’s because knowing how to care for one’s bike breeds confidence, and on wheels or off, confidence is the root of great style.

Bonus shots of my Spin style: dressed up to wish our teacher a fond farewell (I am second from left in devil horns), and for the Michael Jackson/Beethoven ride (I am kneeling, second from left).

Thanks to Rob and all the folks at Public Cycle for sponsoring this amazing contest, and to Angie and YLF for doing so much to promote cycling in style.