I've been around long enough to know that any sense of control over your bikes is an illusion. Ultimately, bikes render you powerless and leave you grovelling.
Case in point:
I abandoned the Monkey today and leaned on the skinny sexy bike to help me through a rough patch. (It's well documented that I'm a scab, but that's beside the point.)
Any ordinary big-boned bike would have spent the day sulking. But the Monkey is no ordinary bike. The Monkey has character with a capital C and went for a makeover while me and sexy were gone for the day.
When I rolled into the driveway aboard sexy tonight, it was . . well . . . YOWSA!!!
Before . . .
and after . . .
(If the skinny sexy bike tells you that I dropped it on the pavement and rushed towards the Monkey, that is such a lie.) But in my defense, let's get real. Is there anything sexier than leather? If your answer is no, I'm calling you out. You are such a major big liar.
Anyway, I'm in trouble. The skinny sexy bike is just sitting there, looking fabulous, and knowing it, all passive-agressive. The Monkey is feeling all meaty-sexy and just plain old tiger-agressive. I feel like a swimmer in shark-infested waters with a cut on my leg. I'M INNOCENT!!! All I ever wanted to do was go for a ride.
And no, I do not live on a farm.
3 comments:
I'll take that WTB saddle off your hands if you don't want it.
I guess I'm just too young to understand why having more than one bike fighting for your love is a bad thing. As I grow older I suppose I will learn the devilish ways of bikes. Thank you for your sage advice.
Eli
Jeff, sorry, I've got the saddle earmarked for another bike.
Eli, just keep riding and all will eventually be revealed to you.
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