Looking Back: My favorite Bike

I shouldn’t have sold it. I wanted it back so bad, but it was too late and now I had to watch someone else enjoy it.

It was my favorite bike.

A couple years ago I had gotten this bike from a bike shop in Berkeley. I wasn’t even really looking for a bike at the time but something about this bike caught my eye and I was immediately captivated. I had to have it. The bike wasn’t brand new and it had seen its fair share of abuse and road wear. The brakes were a little squeaky making it a bit unsure of itself and every now and then the bike would wobble and become unsteady. It didn’t matter to me because I knew that with a little tender loving care this bike could really shine. I loved that bike, and I tried to give it everything it needed. Me and the bike weren’t perfect but when we went out on the town zipping in and out of traffic cutting through the wind we were perfect.

Then things started to go downhill.

The bike started falling apart. It could no longer ride straight and true like it used to. The wheels felt loose and the gears grinded as it struggled to make it up hills. I tried to oil it and patch the holes in the tires as best I could, but no matter what I tried nothing worked.

The bike was breaking and I couldn’t fix it.

I felt utterly powerless. I still tried to take it out but the chain repeatedly got caught in my pants and ruined them. The bike would stop suddenly and send me careening over the handle bars into the bushes. It came to a point where the bike was causing more harm than help. Regrettably I had no choice but to let the bike go.

So I moved away.

The bike stayed where I had left it and it broke my heart to know that I wouldn’t be taking it out anymore. We would no longer cruise about town with the wind cutting through us; we would no longer be the envy of the other bicyclists. Every now and again I would look up the bike just to see how it was doing without me. It had still not been ridden and was slowly breaking down more. The tires were completely flat and the chain dry and rusty. I wanted to go back for the bike so bad, but I knew I couldn’t.

Eventually the bike started doing better. It shined itself back up and moved to a new area full of sunshine and mountains perfect for more adventures and other riders eager to take the bike out for a spin.

I am happy for the bike but I still regret ever letting it go. I loved it, and even though it wasn’t perfect I thought it was the best darn bike in the world. I still look at old pictures of me and the bike, whipping about town—Starbucks trips and college adventures.

Oh how I loved that bike.

For now I am bike-less, and rely on my feet and my car to get me to places. I know even if I find another bike it still won’t compare to THAT bike.

Maybe one the bike and I will be re-united and have new adventures cruising about in a new town with a new wind cutting through our bodies.

I hope its soon…

Writer's Blocked: Episode 1.

    “So that’s when the bird poops on his shoulder causing him to careen off the side of the road into the hot dog stand!” That was my great idea. I cant believe I just said that. As soon as the words left my mouth I thought “ Oh man, what an idiot. Why would you even say something like that Christian?” The blank stares from the other writers around the table seemed to confirm my thoughts. “ That’s great Christian, but I think we all like Bill’s idea about the giant inflatable crocodile.” My boss said with a confused look on his face. "Stupid Bill. Who wants to see another inflatable crocodile scene?” I thought to myself. “Let’s get out of the ninety’s Bill-with-your-stupid-sweater-vest-over-your-Fred-Perry-polo-shirt, and your jorts“. We all sat around the table trying to brainstorm some more ideas for next weeks show. The network had just switched our show from Monday nights to Thursday nights and today was Saturday, which meant no one wanted to be here.
    “Can we go home now? I think we have enough and my nose is runny and my knees are locking up.” Exclaimed a small voice from near the back of the room.
“ Shut-up Karl! No one cares right now.” Everyone seemed to shout simultaneously. Karl was Jewish, but not really. His last name just had a lot of z’s, e’s and i’s in it, and nobody quite knew how to pronounce it. I slouched back in my chair and the room continued on like this for another 2 hours. We all shouted out our ideas, laughed at the hilarious ones, cocked our heads to the side and let out an audible hmmmmm at the not so good ones, and of course everyone shut down Karl. Finally it was lunch time. With loud groans and grunts and a few quiet farts from Karl, we all rose up out of our chairs. “ What is everyone doing for lunch?” I asked. “Hopefully paying for me.” I said inside my head. Suddenly from down the hall startling everyone came:
“HAPPY HOUR!”
Oh sh**, was the look that appeared on everyone’s face. The group all stared at each other and thought at the exact same time: “ Oh no, not Mike. Anyone but Mike.”