There’s a trick that gets played on your heart every now and then. A hand being shown, edging you to either do something or not pursue it at all. Your “gut feeling”, if you will. Selling something or doing something, maybe even saying or asking something which may or may not exact some price on either your heart, conscious or your very soul.
Avid readers and even newly-joined, I have made many mistakes in my life, and Monday I nearly made another grave one. Nearly selling my most trusty mount ever, at a price not even half what she would be worth if you take into account all the blood, sweat and hard work it took myself, the Bike Addict and Mechanical MacGyver to get her to a point where she doesn’t even drip… well a drop.
The feeling that made me change my mind? A bullhook knuckle sandwich in my temple, shaking my hands and shaming my heart, making me ask myself “what do you think you’re doing?!”. A retro-fitted poltergeist oil slick making me fall right on my tuckis (a person’s behind, for those who don’t know), slamming me so hard I realize what a mistake I nearly made.
See there’s something magical about a man (or woman) and their machine, when they come to a complete connection, an asphalt coated tri-star spacial heart-throb of a link between machines of both steel and animation. When you get there, why sever it?
Just because your bike is small doesn’t mean you need to get rid of it to go bigger, I say this once again, preaching to the choir (being a hypocrite, to be straight forward). Bigger isn’t always better, and if you need to sacrifice a trusty steed to get to it then maybe you’re following the wrong path.
Go in peace, ride safe and ride respectfully.