You sat next to the door for too long, I know. I’m sorry!
I tell you I’m sorry a lot don’t I? you know I mean it.
I don’t like leaving you leaned there by your lonesome for
so long, it’s just the sun goes down at 5pm and the Mexican market has
incredible deals on a mindblowing assortment of pastries in just about every
color and flavor you could imagine, but I know you don’t care about those
things.
We did dance yesterday though. You were just as surprised as
I was when I got off of work early. And with an extra 5 hours of daylight in my
pocket I think you knew I wouldn’t waste in on Netflix or with my nose buried
in my phone. I packed a bag full of clothes to try and sell at the shop across
town, put on many a layer of my own apparel and set out to stretch both our legs.
Over the bridge we went, storming up it quicker than usual.
Looking out at highest point on the bridge we could see the mountains and
surrounding hills were covered in snow. A reminder that made us sad winter was
so close, that we were only really riding on borrowed time, because by some
miracle the ground was not yet covered in that awful substance that taunted us
from far away.
Over to Main where we followed the rails south, out of
downtown and then east towards Sugarhouse. We didn’t go through Liberty Park, which
is strange because we usually do. Instead we stuck to the small neighborhoods
where there were no cars, or people. OR DOGS TO CHASE US TEN BLOCKS. (that’s
another story)
It was just you and I, and that was nice.
We ran our errands and took our time heading home. I stopped
and grabbed lunch and you waited patiently. After we were home I set you right
back by the door and went about doing my own things for a bit.
I think I surprised you again when I took you up once again
a few hours later. We had one more errand to run before the night was over (I
had to return some video tapes). With more layers on myself than before we left
once again. My feet and head wrapped with wool, my Columbia shell and hoodies
and flannels keeping me comfortably warm from the cold November night air.
Up and over the bridge, this time taking in the city and
it’s lights.
How many times did we see this same exact view this summer?
How many times did you carry me away?
When I was sad. When I was happy. When I couldn’t even think
because I had so many thoughts.
This trip was short, much shorter than the day’s earlier
trek. It was well needed, as is all the time I spend with you.
I set you by the door once more, and said goodnight.
Lucille you’ve seen so much since we’ve started riding
together, not just of the road but of me.
Before Lucille, I had a bike named Anubis.
Anubis was quite the problem child. In addition to helping me remove the tip of my finger, he was also plagued with many problems that hurt my pocket book and eventually lead to his demise as a piecer that has sat in storage for about a year now.
Anubis will rise again, as something else. His time as a fixed gear are over, he will be much happier as a mountain bike or a hybrid commuter.
Enough about Anubis, I was trying to make a point about Lucille.
Despite my rigorous use of her throughout this whole summer, she was solid.
She's quite the solid steel, English lass.
love you.
