Bike gear: a love story gone wrong
I’m slowly amassing my set of winter biking paraphernalia; i.e., I have a bad relationship with my girlfriend.
It all began when la Gitane glided into my life and stole my heart.
At first things we were happy and had trysts wherever, whenever, without a care in the world. But then a certain paternal figure insisted that I not ride without using protection.
My happy-go-lucky infatuation proved ephemeral, and soon gave way to darker feelings. I became very aware of how sexy my lady was and suffered to realize that her gyspy spirit could be seduced away from me at any point if she so decided, wild and untameable as she is. Now she wears a belt and ring to keep her chaste.
Much has changed in our relationship since our first halcyon days. I demand that she stay home every night and sleep in my room. When I can’t be next to her, I put her in dark, hidden places so that no one else can see her. Every time I leave her, I remind her that I hold the keys to her freedom. Given the chilly atmosphere that surrounds us every time we’re together, my eyes often well up with tears. Being both unseeming to the public and dangerous in our rides together, these days I wear a façade so as to not betray my weakness. All because I love her and want what’s best for her. So it goes in sick, materialistic societies.
Happy Valentine’s Day!