So the bike blitz is over-did anyone get a ticket? This weekend marked the end of the seven-day campaign by Toronto police to increase awareness and safety about cycling in the city. Debates raged on the internets about whether the police were out to help cyclists, or out to make money. Luckily, they didn’t make any off me. Instead, I spent the week keeping to backstreets, under cover of darkness (yes, my Batavus is equipped with a light. Safety first.) biking under streetlamps, bottle of wine in my panniers. Nothing beats 2 am biking-there’s something soothing and almost sneaky about sailing a few blocks from Queen Street, hearing the sounds of revelry and feeling like you’re cruising around in your own little alternate universe, smelling the honeysuckle and stopping to lean on low concrete walls in the heat. No tickets for biking the wrong way down Augusta here. The ultimate romantic date is a nighttime bike picnic-pick your favourite spot in your favourite park, bring a bottle of wine, some crusty bread and brie (cliches exist for a reason) and a blanket. Drink out of the bottle and eat out of eachothers fingers-lovely. If you thought my bike looked good locked up beside a brick wall, you should see it leaning against a tree in the moonlit semi-darkness.

For the ultimate Dutch Bike