An ode to my bike

So many puns…

bike Cambridge

My darling Philipa,

There’s no denying our story has been full of ups and downs and twists and turns, but isn’t that what makes our connection so special?

We have been on a journey together and taken more often than not the road less travelled. I could feel your body race as you took me to places I never thought I could go. 

I wanted to take things slowly but you rushed ahead, pulling me with you. When we were together, there were no brakes holding us back; it made it exciting, dangerous knowing that there was nothing we couldn’t do or rule we couldn’t break.

We were unstoppable. And even as the swarthy men smoking in their taxis swore, the policemen shouted and the mothers with young children grudgingly tutted, we didn’t care – we both knew they just didn’t have what we had.

But then things changed.

We went downhill too fast.

Things got rocky, and our future together skidded to a halt as I put on the brakes. We were bumped, bounced and shaken off each other.  You left me there on the ground, bruised, broken and battered.

I can see you’ve moved on quickly – someone else just picked you up and took you away – but things have been a bit more of an uphill struggle for me. Still alone, I haven’t found anyone who quite fit the indent you left.

I guess he has given you things that I couldn’t; pumped and polished you up, so now you parade around with the best and latest gloss and varnish. But, hidden behind your enamelled smile and hard armour you seem tired and worn; missing your inflation and just a bit flat. Beneath your outer façade, your colours have faded and skin cracked, and you look like a skeleton of what you once were.

He only wants to use you and now you’re chained down and locked up. I have the key, just let me steer you back in my direction.

Yours forever,