On Saturday morning, before any of this frozen-toed silliness even began, my Sally was white as the driven snow, pure as the leaf of the lotus blossom.
By Sunday afternoon, she'd been sullied and debased. Sally was deflowered, and her snow-white had, not coincidentally, turned slush-brown.
My flair for the artistic resurfaced towards the end of Sunday's ride, and my canvas was my bike. Sally's paint scheme was already dashing, that much is certain, but it lacked a certain panache. The finishing touches added some Rutgers red (scarlet, actually) to the top tube, and I daresay it's brilliant.
In the process, I got some on my face, too.
It's not like it's unprecedented. It is, however, always surprising.
Update: I've reread that first post about my new bike. At the end, I wrote "It is my prediction that these will be ruined by April." The bar-tape didn't last 3 days. Totally worth it.
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1 comment:
i don't know if one should admit that one has named his/her bike "sally"
mine is "nellie" as in "come on there nellie, get on up dat hill"
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