Syndicate this site's blogSay goodbye to the bike
I’ve a blogging backlog to get through, now that I’ve arrived in Santa Fe to start a new life. So let’s start during the frantic last week in Dublin, and a problem I faced with regard to one of my bikes.
The road bike and the mountain bike were going to the US - boxed up and surrounded by as much stuff as we could squeeze in. But there was no room for the old touring bike, which had made it from Bangor to Bobbio but had since been relegated to hack bike.
I could have brought it with me, but the headset was a bit graunchy, and the chain rings all worn. The brakes had never been any good (old-school, three-hands-to-adjust cantilevers with flexy levers), and it didn’t seem to make sense to send it halfway round the world, to hang out with three other bikes that actually worked.
But this was the bike that took me to Italy, and had carried me up and down the quays for the day job. The wheels were still true, I’d still not had a puncture (that’s not one - ever), and the frame was a well-built from forgiving Reynolds 531 tubing.
Our last ride to a small bike shop on Dorset St was steady and unremarkable - much like the bike. I’d cleaned it up a little, and the bike shop guy didn’t look too carefully. I told him I’d mainly used it just for getting around Dublin (except for the 2000 miles trip through eight countries, that is) and we agreed on 50 yoyos cash in hand.
I wasn’t really interested in the money - I was just pleased not to have to worry about what I was going to do with it any more. And I’m happy that someone’s probably getting around on it, completely unaware of its adventurous past, or its starring role in a travel book.
Goodbye, loyal Dawes - I’ll miss you.
