Adieu

Parting is such sweet sorrow.
Sort of.
I mean sometimes it's difficult, but every thing happens for the best.
Perhaps we shall meet again, on the road.
Or another life.
I said good bye tonight to the Barn Door:



It will now do commuting time on the other side of the island.
At least it will get the chance to stretch it's legs.
That's at least some consolation.
I felt sort of bad for it, having it sitting in my living room, having to watch as I took the other bikes out for a ride.
I can only imagine the conversations at night:

"Oh yeah! That was great today! Twenty five miles and we even did a small hill!"
"Can't you keep it to yourself?"
"Why? Just because I get out and you just sit there all dusty like?"
"Hey! I get out sometimes."
"Oh right. To the store. What's that? like two miles?"
"Two miles is two miles. At least I'm useful. I get to carry the cheese rolls and kim chee."
Uncontrollable laughter. "Cheese rolls!"
"Look buddy, you can't carry jack!"
"That's because I'm going so fast."
"Fast? I'm just as fast as you are!"
"Oh right. When you get out. I got to do the Haleiwa Metric."
"Metric smetric. I bring home the salami!"
"Not for long."
"Huh?"
"Nothing."

It's gone to a better place.
A useful place.
A place where the roads are smooth and hopefully the traffic is light.
There's something about selling a bike, a bike that you put some miles on.
I mean there's a certain something, a connection if you will, that's hard to express in words.
Maybe it's like losing a fellow traveler, a companion, someone you went places with and discovered new things. It was always there for the call and it never let you down.
Well, besides the occasional flats.
Even that creates a bond.
Standing by roadside with one of you upside down is something you don't experience with any other thing.
At least I hope not.
Then there's all the maintenance and care you put into it. Lovingly oiling down the moving stuff and wiping down the tubes after a wet ride, boy, I'm getting a bit misty just thinking about it.
Oh! the places we've been and the things we've seen!
No more.
No more rattling fenders.
No more springy seatpost.
No more jiggly front basket.
No more Banshee Brakes.
Enjoy that Deore Lx front derailleur I gave you.
May your shifting always be crisp.
Adieu, M. Barn Door!
Godspeed.