Relationship crisis

Two weeks ago my bike broke, putting a serious strain on our relationship. After a change of back wheel, gear cog and chain, I was allowed to cycle her home again, but something had changed.

Indeed, I noticed that changing gear was different, likening it to a new haircut that made her look far less attractive. Actually, with the clicking noise that continually comes off the chain now, it’s as though she’s had a nose job operation and when she speaks you can hear air whistling through the nostrils. It’s really annoying.

Anyway after a fortnight I’ve gotten used to it and my love for the old bike started to return. So, yesterday I went for a reasonable 30km ride – nothing to what I will be doing daily if I cycle to Amsterdam this summer.

The Sun was low and the breeze was up, and everything felt great in the world once again. I was at one with my bike, until – cycling past Christiania – clang! Something gave way on the back wheel.

As I dismounted and carried my bike onto the pavement, I made eye contact with a pedestrian passing by. She gave me one of those ‘that didn’t sound good’ kind of looks. And indeed she was right. As you can see from the picture, the axis on which the wheel turns has collapsed in on itself. Well, you can’t really see it – but that hairline fracture on the right hand side is what has buggered this relationship up.

Of course it looks like nothing, a bit like the boil that suddenly sprouts on your girlfriend’s upper lip looks like nothing. But soon it grows bigger and bristly hairs start protruding out of it. This problem needs fixing before it’s too late.

I tried to continue cycling but the back wheel began to wobble. This is going to cost a fortune.

So my predicament: it’s Sunday morning and I can’t get to a bike shop before tomorrow. I have breathing space. I feel as though I’ve just been told she’s been cheating on me, and this is my sulk period. Tomorrow I will face the music and sort this relationship out.

I have two options. One is to mend the bike – replacing the wheel – and stomach the cost. However, what’s not to say the same situation won’t happen again as I’m heading into Hamburg? My second option is to get rid of the bike: dump her. We’ve had a good run – nearly 9 months in fact – and her brakes are loosening and her washers are rusting. She’s getting old, tired and – on account of the back wheel – wobbly.

So, do I stick with my faithful yet draining old bint with a boil on her lip, or trade her in for a leggy 21-year-old Danish blonde?