This morning on the way to Harbourfront to meet the Huzbond and some friends at the Veg Food Fair, I decided that I’d had enough of my shitty-ass bike. Too many winters outside, a rusty lock that demands a wrestling match before every journey, brakes that require gripmaster exerciser force to depress… It was all too much so I decided to chuck the lock and prop the bike up against a billboard at the bottom of York Street. I figured, what the heck, somewhere out there is a genius bike mechanic who will get this sucker up and running again in no time. Me, I haven’t the patience.
In all fairness to the bike, I did take it in at the beginning of the summer to have it tuned up. The bike shop boys looked at the bike and laughed, turned to me, full of contempt, and said forget honey, your bike is trash… in not so many words of course. But I departed feeling like trash myself. Not worthy to even own a bike.
So this morning I left the bike at Harbourfront for at least two and a half hours, completely and very obviously unlocked – ripe for the picking. Yet, upon my return it was still there. The horror.
Truthfully, I wasn’t entirely disappointed because now I had a ride home. On the way I began to think about a new plan for ditching my metal liability. I also reminisced a lot about a long lost bike that I took down south with me a few years ago. A sturdy, totally rad pink lady’s Peugot – my dream bike. I ended up selling it for 50 bucks to a sweet Mexican couple who inhabited a big ol’ pickup truck to travel the US and paint houses for a living.
But I digress. My bike is now hanging out close to a bike rack, unlocked. I hope someone will take it in and give it a new home.
I’m done with it. Please be gone by morning. Please. Bye bye bike! Take good care and don’t come back now ya hear?