My Noble Steed (Or: 'Phil's New Bike')
I got a new bike today! Well, not really new, but new to me. It was a gift (of sorts) from Steph's cousin Glen. When I heard I was getting a bike, I was really excited, as a) I needed a mode of conveyance faster than Shank's Pony, b) I could use some variation to my exercise, and c) I haven't ridden one in over 15 years. Anyway, a very excited beast was I.
Then I saw the thing.
The rear wheel had not only been punctured, but smashed to shit. The front brake had (intentionally, the mechanic figures) been severed in the most inconvenient manner possible. The seat had been twisted 'round to the side. "If this bastard were a horse, out of mercy they'd SHOOT the nag!" I said to myself. And immediately knew what I had to name my bike.
"Rossinante," I muttered breathlessly as the mechanic wheeled my stately mount out of the workshop. For those of you who are uncultured Philistines and as such unaware of its origin, Rossinante is the name of Don Quixote's horse. It means 'Nag', as the horse in the story is an elderly plowhorse no longer good for the plow. With my Quixotic tendencies and the piss-poor condition in which I got him, it seemed the perfect name for him. If you don't like it... well, up yours, it's my bike.
Anyway, I rode him home from CyclePath (the bike shop wherein I had him repaired), a ride of roughly 4 klicks in and of itself. Between that and walking to the bank and back this morning (a walk of two klicks, give or take) and I have had my exercise for the day, dammit.
Still, looking forward to riding some more later. Work on my glutes. ^_^
Then I saw the thing.
The rear wheel had not only been punctured, but smashed to shit. The front brake had (intentionally, the mechanic figures) been severed in the most inconvenient manner possible. The seat had been twisted 'round to the side. "If this bastard were a horse, out of mercy they'd SHOOT the nag!" I said to myself. And immediately knew what I had to name my bike.
"Rossinante," I muttered breathlessly as the mechanic wheeled my stately mount out of the workshop. For those of you who are uncultured Philistines and as such unaware of its origin, Rossinante is the name of Don Quixote's horse. It means 'Nag', as the horse in the story is an elderly plowhorse no longer good for the plow. With my Quixotic tendencies and the piss-poor condition in which I got him, it seemed the perfect name for him. If you don't like it... well, up yours, it's my bike.
Anyway, I rode him home from CyclePath (the bike shop wherein I had him repaired), a ride of roughly 4 klicks in and of itself. Between that and walking to the bank and back this morning (a walk of two klicks, give or take) and I have had my exercise for the day, dammit.
Still, looking forward to riding some more later. Work on my glutes. ^_^