Three women on bikes

Could be anything, couldn't it?


"Three women on bikes" is not enough information.


We don't know who the three women are, or where they live, or when they lived, or what their ages might be.


We don't know why they're on the bikes, or where they're going.



I don't mean to play coy with you. But I saw three women on bikes on Saturday morning, and I have been thinking about them ever since.

This is not the first time I have seen them. Sometimes they pedal past my house, right up my street, headed north. They bike slowly, single-file, evenly spaced. They sit very straight on their bikes, and they do not look around. They are dressed in an old-fashioned way, in long skirts, with patterned scarves covering their hair and tied under their chins.

They ride one-speed bicycles, each with deep basket affixed to the handlebars.

Sometimes a man rides with them, a short distance behind them. A bodyguard? A prison guard?



They pedal past my house, and then, quite a long time later, they pedal back again, headed south. This time their baskets are packed with bags of groceries.

Where are they going? Who is the food for? Why are they dressed that way?

There are so many ways a woman can ride a bicycle. This way, though, troubles me.