Dear Bike,
You may not understand my distance, I'm hoping this letter explains it to you.
When I first got you, you were my pride and joy. I chose your name with great thought. I put so must trust in you on the road; your name needed to be strong and trustful. I finally named you Baz after a family friend, he was someone who gave me strength and I trusted more than most. You really don't look like a Baz - this is what I like most about your name.
For years I got up before most, at least five mornings a week, and you were my only thought. I would get us both prepared the night before, so we were ready to hit the road as soon as possible. Together we rode through the streets in the dark to meet up with groups of people and their bikes and then off we would ride with the pack. Socially we would ride amongst the others chatting, respectively keeping wheel distance and warming up. Once we reached halfway we would turn around and head home, this time it was on. In our pack we would push ourselves to our limits, grab on to wheels where we could and sprint when we had to. When we would reach our final destination, it was time to relax. Me chatting with the group, hot drink in hand, you hanging from some apparatus or just leaning against a wall, sometimes up against familiar bikes. Good times...
On the weekends or a holiday, it was time to stretch our legs and get out of the city. We've ridden in the countryside, along coastlines, and up mountains. Always together having adventures. During summers we've raced around in the streets of Port Melbourne at the crits with our mates, only to finish up at yet another cafe. We've made friends for a ride, for a weekend, for years and a lifetime. Life has never been dull when we're together.
When you were dirty, you'd always get a bubble bath. I'd love to say always from me, but that would be a lie. Craig would spoil you the most like that. He would check your tires and search the internet for different parts you needed. Every few months I'd take you back to the bike shop where we first met. You'd spend time with Paul your bike mechanic, who would help you with the things I would never be able to. You would come home with a new lease on life and many times different coloured handlebar tape!
About two years ago you probably noticed our life together changing. I got heavier, slower and our rides became less frequent until one day they just stopped. For months you just sat there, not ridden at all. Still, after more than a year, you still sit on your stand with your tire pressure lowering and dust accumulating. When you do get your wheels pumped and get back on the road it is unlike the old days, it is sporadic and the rides not as long.
I'm sure you are thinking, where are you? What happened to you and me? Am I not good enough? Do I not ride well anymore?
Well, what happened was I became a mum, my priorities changed, and when I wake up before most now, my only thought is my son Noah. What I do want you to know is he makes me happier than I have ever been and although he gets in the way of my riding, I wouldn't have it any other way. You are still my pride and joy and as he needs me less, believe me, I will need you more.
You are my freedom, the pathway to my inner child and if I hadn't started cycling the people mentioned in this letter and yourself would not be in my life. So relax, enjoy the quiet times, as without a doubt in my mind we will again be the force we once were and more.
Love always,
Liza xo
xOSTahEouJwQkjs