“Wow, look at that.”

“Aw, how cute is that?”

“Is that ever cool.”

“I want one.”

I’m attracting a lot of attention these days. Amused, bemused, surprised and envious comments are being directed my way from patios, sidewalks, paths and parks.

I’d like to think it was because of the power of my presence, but truth be known I’m not really the object of all this attention, although if I ignored a few basic realities, such as age, grace and physique, I could be.

No, the real attention grabber – or should I say hog – is the pint-sized passenger stealing the limelight while seeing the sights on my legwork. There he is, trailing right behind me, barking instructions as I deftly navigate the city’s winding paths and trails on my new bike.

I picked it up earlier in the summer, while in the bike store collecting my wife’s two-wheeled conveyance, which had been in for an overhaul. It’s bright, shiny and has 28 – count them – gears.

It cost a bit more than I wanted to spend, but the trustworthy and enterprising salesman assured me I was getting top quality, at a hefty discount.

I was quickly sold, but my wife took convincing. She had a new bedroom set in mind for the youngster, but soon became attached to the bike when the aforementioned advocate of pedal power introduced her to the ‘trail bike’ – a contraption that when attached to the back of my bike, turns the whole rig into a three-wheel, four-pedal, two-handlebar tandem – thing!

It’s this combination that has been turning heads near the waterfront this summer – that and the cute little guy riding shotgun, issuing his instructions.

“Go faster, dad.”

“I want to stop for an ice cream.”

“Let’s go to the park.”

“Why are you slowing down?”

Of course, my own ‘bike chat’ is equally direct, mostly consisting of, “Don’t pedal when we’re going downhill,” and, “We’re not going up that hill!”

The brevity of conversation is in no way the result of a shortage of breath, but I must admit a favourite destination is the park, where I can rest the ‘bike’ against the bench I plunk myself down on, from where I have a panoramic view of the bay.

He quite enjoys himself there, so who am I to speed him along. Go on, run, jump, slide and play. It’s a sacrifice, sitting there doing nothing, nothing at all, but one I’m prepared to make for the little guy.

The bike has been a nice addition this summer, and yes it’s a lot of fun pulling the little guy along, even if it’s a bit of a struggle climbing the hills rising away from the bay. But hey, you try pulling 50 lbs (trail bike and passenger) behind you after nearly a decade and a half off the saddle and see how you fare.

At least my cycling ventures no longer generate looks of concern from my wife. This was not always the case.

A couple of days after the bike made its appearance, I announced my intention to go for a little mid-evening spin. “I won’t be out long – about 45 minutes.” Those who know me well are aware my time ‘estimates’ are more soft goals than hard targets, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that 45 minutes turned into two hours.

It was a pleasant, early summer evening, and I took the opportunity afforded by the bike to explore the trail around the bay, spending some quality time parked on a bench overlooking the water, watching the boats go by and doing nothing in particular.

Arriving home I was greeted by an obviously worried spouse, who wondered where I had been.

She wasn’t concerned that I was late, but rather that I was lying by the side of the road or trail, clutching my chest.

Ah sweet love. It pops up in the most unexpected situations.

The little fellow has his own bike, a fire-red rocket complete with training wheels, but he much prefers to hit the trails with dad these days. We’ve become a familiar sight around the waterfront; the wife even joins us for a cycle from time to time.

It’s still a sweat to climb those hills, but it’s getting easier. It’s been a good buy, the bike. And even though the attention isn’t coming my way, it’s still nice to get a notice, if only by association.