It felt as though I had been out of love with my Kona Zing for years, almost since I got him it seemed. Every time we hit the pavement, I had nothing but complaints. He’s too slow. He’s too heavy. He squeaks,. Seriously, why the heck is he so far behind? But that evening when Big Ring walked up the stairs, his eyes all alight with excitement, a strange sadness filled my heart.
My bike had been sold.
And suddenly, it was no longer the glass half empty bike, but rather, the glass full. As I slid my hand over his top tube for a final moment, my heart lurched. I remembered when I first rode him around the neighbourhood, up and down the same street repeatedly so Big Ring could capture our first moments together. And that blistering hot afternoon, riding under the canopy of trees, when I finally conquered hands-free cycling. And when we climbed Jericho not once but twice in one day, oh that was well-deserved bragging rights! And all those times when I crouched low to his bars (well, for as long as I could before I got freaked out 😉 ) zooming down the city and valley hills, the wind – and bugs – slapping our faces.
Despite our many grumblings (on both sides I’m sure) he was a good bike, a great bike even. He gave me glorious memories, smiles, laughter, intense fortitude, and many moments of curses too. He made me work hard, oh did he ever with that, ahem, tubby aluminum of his, but that’s what made our adventures so epic. And for that, I am forever grateful.
He, however, couldn’t wait to be rid of me. Let me tell you. Zing was practically banging against the front door to get out of my grasp. I don’t blame him really; his new home is sure to be a glorious – and speedy!!! – adventure that I just cannot provide. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the old boy is spotted sporting a sleek turbo engine in the near future! Seriously. The guy who adopted him is the same guy who designed the new Batmobile! No guff!
And then there was Mr. Foldy. Despite all our plans for traveling, riding him along the French and Italian countrysides, introducing him to this new city and that, it just didn’t happen. In fact, aside from one crack last spring, I really hadn’t been on him since practically the first year I had him. And yet, he too holds a special place in my heart. You see, dear foldy was the bike that got me into cycling in the first place.
About a year after Big Ring and I got together, I had started expressing interest in getting a bike of my own, but I wasn’t sure what kind of bike I wanted – whether I wanted a super cutesy casual bike (you know, the kind where I’d where a cute skirt and scarf, and have a baguette sticking out of a wicker basket off the front 🙂 ) or if I wanted something more sporty like a fancy schmancy new Bianchi.
Mr. Foldy, with 24 speeds, was the best of both worlds. He was casual and sporty and great for the apartment lifestyle in that he took up hardly any space. With him, I rode 84 km up those horrendous hills to Horseshoe Bay, which still stands as my longest ride (and probably most cursed ride) ever; he was the bike that was with me on my first meeting with my favourite ironchickie turned Coach NZ turned super awesome friend; and the bike I took all over the valley, the city, parks, everywhere that beautiful summer.
But the thing was, despite his many advantages, with him I didn’t get the respect I desired from other cyclists on the road. Big Ring would get chin nods, and hand flips galore, but I would get nothing, not even a glance. And I was all like, what the heck. I tried changing my shorts, going from mountain biking shorts to spandex – nothing. I tried changing my sunglasses, going from fashion to sporty –nothing. So, after not even three months with Mr. Foldy, I was already on the market for a new bike. Sigh.
And not even a proper bike could give me that respect. Seriously what gives with these snooty cyclists 😉
So long bikes, may you love your new homes!