There's an adage that goes something like, "it's like riding a bike … once you learn, you never forget."

I hope that is true because I am in the process of buying a bike, my first one since I was a teenager.

And I can assure you there is no adage that says, "It's like buying a bike … once you learn, you never forget."

I have spent that past two weeks visiting every bicycle outlet in the area and I am confused. My general state of being borders on confusion most times, but this bike-buying expedition has left me even more baffled than usual.

Now that I have a lot of time on my hands, I felt riding a bike was obviously a good way to keep Mr. Heart Attack at bay and it must be vastly more interesting than pounding out killer kilometres on a treadmill at the gym. My intention is to tour the neighbourhood on my two-wheeler every day and follow my excursion with 30 minutes on the weights at the gym.

My friend Karen suggested getting a stationary bike for home, but I pointed out that the scenery stinks. She said put it in front of a TV. I passed on that.

I stopped in at a dozen yard sales last Saturday, and found great deals on beater bikes that no self-respecting thief would bother stealing.

I'm still looking. Bikes come in all shapes and sizes and with an amazing spread in price tags. I found one that rang in at $3,200 and when I pointed out to the sales guy that my first new car, a 1969 Chevy Nova, only cost $3,000, he shrugged and sighed, giving me the impression he was not impressed to be dealing with an old geezer. When he continued to elaborate on the nifty options that justified his price tag, I tuned him out and left the store.

Another bike clerk explained the advantages of 24 gears and the differences between a 26-inch wheel and a 28-inch wheel. And did I know it came with dual suspension and a saddle that had a hole in the middle for improved cooling air flow? I explained I was not planning to ride naked, so air flow was unlikely to be an issue for me.

A friend reminded me that bike seat selection is important because in a man, there's a bundle of nerves located just behind the … (since there's no polite way to explain this, I'll leave it to your imagination), and those nerves can become numbed by bike riding and may lead to embarrassing complications later in the evening. Thanks Jim, I really needed to know that.

My first gear bike (that's what we called them back then) was a three-speed, previously-enjoyed, green CCM. I think I was about 12 or 13 and my parents bought the bike from a neighbour for about $20, that being all they could afford. I was thrilled.

I dressed up my steed with a cigarette package clothespinned to the front spokes, a sissy tinkle bell secured to the handlebars, new plastic handgrips, complete with sparkly streamers, and a carry-all rack over the back wheel.

I should have spent a little more time looking at the brakes and figuring out how they worked. On the second day aboard the beast, I lost control on a hill, completely forgot how the brakes should be used and hit a ditch at full throttle, with my pant cuff caught in the chain.

Two weeks later, after the scabs fell off, I found the courage to board Old Betsy again.

I'll never find such a gem of a bike again.

I am still trying to locate a comfy ride with a big-butt saddle, balloon tires, 21 speeds if necessary, if only to climb hills with some ease, and a decent paint job.

I already have a clothespin and a hockey card for the spokes and a hooter horn to replace the tinkle bell. And I'm still looking for a pant cuff clamp.

Watch for me. I'll be the guy with a 10,000-watt smile, bugs on my teeth and glasses, and thinning hair swept back by the breeze.

That's right. No helmet for me, the biker rebel.