My purple, steel frame Fuji Roubaix of 24 years died October 4th at 5:15pm of a broken down tube.
I loved my bike.
It, my bike, my steel steed… We’ve shared over 150,000 miles. Epic journeys, and cold, lonely, scary nights. Miles of hot pavement and crushing traffic, hard sprints, hard braking, hard corners. We’ve explored endless trails, rocks, dust, gravel, and dirt. We’ve ridden places maybe we shouldn’t have. We’ve seen almost everything together.
My bike was my best friend.
24 years, two complete drive trains, a dozen wheels, countless tires and inner tubes. 150,000 miles. Every day, day in, day out, I rode it to work. Two different cities, five different jobs, six different houses, each route worn so familiar we could do this in our sleep. As tens of miles, hundreds of miles, thousands of miles added up, my bike was almost always just THERE for me.
My bike was an amazing workhorse.
On long, lonely rides, my bike gave me solace. The rhythm of the pedals gave a reassuring pattern. The balance, steering, direction, melted into my being, becoming my thoughts. My spirit moved forward with my body, all carried by this simple, magical machine. At the end, I feel cleansed, refreshed, and whole again.
My bike loved me, too.
Goodbye, my best friend. I will ride you again in my heaven.