I knew when I saw her that she had to be mine. Stood in a London window, looking back at me I knew she felt the same. My mates dismisssed her ,"she's just a bike", they'd say. But I grew to love her, and she grew to love me. A beautiful honeymoon followed travelling across France.
Today, with ridiculous side winds she was like an errant child, she wouldn't do as she was told, worse even than emptying the joint account for that new handbag. It was as if she was punishing me for her "garage years". Veering to hedges, distracted, where once she was true and unflinching. It was a wrestling match where once it was a love match.
We sat having lunch in silence, my back turned I ate my sandwich solemnly, I looked at the other boys bikes, and thought "what if", "were they shinier, quicker, lighter?". She sat saying nothing, unresponsive, "just like her cornering", I thought. Leant up against the van she seemed destined for a skip on the A80, time to trade her in for a newer sexier model. It wasn't me, it was her.
And yet, like Mills and Boon - there was a happy ending. As the rain came, our shared troubles rekindled our lost love. She was fast, once again considerate of my needs - and just that little bit dirtier than the other boys bikes!
Carlsberg don't make bikes but if they did.......
Andy
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