Ah, my ready steed
s: you move me faster through both time, and space. Poor little Volvo, you sometimes need love I can't provide…that little seal on the intake camshaft that leaks oil--which I could purchase for about $20--requires more tools, time and energy than I currently have. Out of town working for two days, I'll take you in to the dealer; so they can replace the seal; so they can let me know of all the other, little ways I have neglected you; so they can try to get me to do more. Until you're fixed, your little brother will carry me.
[r.i.p. S40 . . . your encounter with a roadside barrier left me with a living memory, but it took you far, far past any repair]
Yokota Yosemity, I bought you in 1992 for 1K cash @Big Wheel Bikes in Georgetown, Washington D.C., and you've carried me through years of work and school and just plain fun, over so many roads.
I rode the roads as if you were a car, right there with all the big boys and girls, obeying all the rules of the road: easily matching 25mph traffic, straining to maintain the 35mph zones, but still able to cruize at 45mph on a good grade.
Sometimes, they'd clip you with their mirror, and we'd end face-up in the ditch.
Sometimes, a cop would single us out, ordering us to do something that was not a Rule; I'd open my wallet, and unfold the pertinent Virginia or DC code, that I might point-out that we were not in error. Sometimes, they let us go on our merry, death-defying way; sometimes, they seemed intent upon wasting an inordinate amount of all of our time.
Sometimes, a truck or car would fail to acknowledge us, and turn, squashing your front tire such that I could not ride you further that day.
Sometimes, I just rode you; for the wind; for the sound of the World in my ears; for fun.
So, here we are, again, facing the same joyful terror of riding on the road.
I'm glad you're still here with me, cause I know you'll get me there, even if you're in pieces . . . I'll put you back together, again, as I always have :)
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