kalkhoff

To my bike,
Three times you shed your chain while we cycled into town, twice I thought was bad enough but by the third time I was hot, covered in black grease and extremely frustrated. I marched you straight into the bike shop and was told you’d need a thorough going over. I was angry and upset that you had become an expensive liability and were potentially a danger to my health.

You were a joke, “look what I got as a result of my car failing its MOT’ I would scoff to my friends, “It’s even older than me!”
I said you were ugly, I said you were slow and loud and made my legs go to jelly.
I said I hated you.

I said and did things I regret now. I should never have left you over night; I was stupid not to put a lock around your golden frame. I suppose I’m also stupid for believing that, because I would never take someone’s bike, no one else would. A naive trust in Other People aside, I shouldn’t have left you.

Do you remember the times we would cycle down the hill really fast? The time we cycled through the woods in the snow even though you had no grip, suspension and your handlebars kept going the opposite way to your front wheel? I remember. I miss the way your bell would jingle over every bump, how your back wheel would skid round corners, how your gear changes sounded like robots coughing.
I hope you are happy, wherever you are, and your new family look after you and give you the love and affection I so rarely expressed but always had. I shall look for you every day whether I mean to or not.

You were a Good Bike. I miss you.