Or,
My life as low bike on the totem pole.It started so well, as an impulse buy at the LBS. Who isn't flattered to be the object of love at first sight? Marketed by Specialized as something of an edgy urban bike complete with skull tattoos, did that mean he fancied a bit of rough out here in the sticks? Whatever, I was swept off my wheels and carried past the shop's threshold jauntily over a shoulder like a bike-sized courier bag, because my new partner had come with another. It's a polygamous life.
A few changes were made, including a new rear hub,
BMX, WTF?but that’s to be expected. Miracle of miracles my saddle stayed, becoming his new standard for comfort.
I was his first natural born singlespeed in that I came with horizontal dropouts – no magic gear necessary. It felt good. We went places, an endless round trip home.
Although I knew from the start I was the ugly duckling (the paint job on the earliest Langsters divides opinion like Marmite, never mind the cranial art), I didn't really mind, beauty being a skim of paint deep. Together we even considered a makeover. He changed his mind at the last minute, securing me in his affections. Or so I thought.
After four years of happiness, disaster struck in the form of a [redacted]. It's difficult to beat custom-built, never mind titanium for those infatuated with the stuff. I was almost immediately relegated to the shed. This despite an unblemished record of service! I lost count of the number of times his other bikes made that trip up the workstand.
Oh, he takes me out once in a while, and always seems pleased. When he finishes with me it's back to the dusty shed until the next wet day. That's right: I rarely see the sun in all its glory.
He managed to fit me with mudguards, which necessitated a change of forks to accomodate the one in front. You should see the unsightly
bodge in the back. It's enough to make a simplespeed weep. The newer forks are perfectly fine btw, but it's a large piece of yourself to say goodbye to.
When he jokingly
binned me, it still hurt. Humour can be a form of violence you know. Sometimes I feel like
this poor dead deer.He says he'll never let me go, and I believe him. At least as long as he's got space in the shed. I have a contingency plan, just in case. Here's my profile pic for Plenty of Fixed. They also have a Freewheel section, though some lie to get more attention, which is sad.
Loyal, free-spirited, a bloody good time. Chain's not slack at all.So that's my story. It isn't over yet. I'll stay true, whatever vicissitudes may come my way. That'll show him. Yeah.
