I got the phone call today: "Hey, Bruce, your bike's sold. Let me know here to send the cheque".
I was torn. Naturally, I was glad to have the money. But still I was torn. Oh, boy, was I torn! My brain kept telling me, "Yes, of course you have to sell it. You can't afford to have two bikes".
But my heart kept saying, "She taught you to ride again; she brought you and Dearly Beloved together in a new venture that you could share; she gave you a reason to look forward to riding; she took you and Dearly Beloved to places you would never normally have gone; she was faithful and reliable and ... just ... fun". (Did you notice my brain calls the Yammie "it", while my heart calls her ... "her". PC bullshit aside ... yes, the Yammie was a she because I was in love with her.)
There's an awful lot of life left in the old girl. I know she'll take her new owner to new places and new experiences. And she's forgiving, easy to ride and eager to respond to someone who even halfway knows what the hell he is doing. And someone else is going to get a lot of joy from her ... perhaps even go out to the garage late at night, as I did when I first got her, to climb on board when no-one else was around ... and just imagine. And smile.
But that isn't going to stop me feeling just a bit sorry and sad, tonight.
So here's to you, old girl. Thank you for the past 5 years ... and please look after your new owner the way you did me. Hope I see you around sometime.
Here she is ... for the last time:
