I - my bike

My old bike is no longer with me. I have stopped the mourning, but after years of excellent service, I hope the taker found someone new to take good care of him. Yes, my former bike Freek was very masculine. I sometimes still think about him, and the time we shared together.

A couple of weeks ago I purchased a new bicycle. I am a doubter, so love at first sight did not work with Topper and me. All the same, my new bike and I, we fit.

But today is such a day. I had been complaining about the tape for weeks. Since I put it there, actually. It's not about Topper's performances - no, I never had a doubt about that - it's his appearance. It's just not the same, and I have tried several styles on Topper to make a better match. Yesterday, when I discussed the topic with my friend, she agreed on the new move: "You never really liked yellow in the first place". So the yellow tape is gone. Topper is back to black. In the front he carries a bunch of flowers, just a tiny bouquet, a hint of detail, every day trying to put that smile on my face (it works). Still there is something missing. And when I removed the yellow tape this morning, I wasn't sure about that something.

So Topper remains simple, and my frown must make him aware of the fact that I am not completely satisfied. He has no clue what to do about it. Has no capacity whatsoever to do anything about it. Just carry it with pride, that little bunch of flowers. The purest bike you can imagine. Never lets me down, takes me anywhere, carries me, my stuff and my friends, waits eternities for me to come back. Back from wandering, wondering. About the changes that I make, only to ctrl+z them again. The uselessness of my efforts. Acceptance. The beauty of simplicity.

It's giving and taking, they say. The bell of my bike is still yellow. I guess that's the 'taking' part.
Everything else is perfect.