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Oh the shame

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I am so ashamed.  How could I have done it.  How can I ever look at her again, she’ll know right away.  And not just one but two and, more than once!  Oh the shame.  But, you gotta believe me, it wasn’t my fault, honestly, I was suckered into it.  I’m the victim here!

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Okay, fine, I’ll just come out and say it; I cheated on Isabelle with another bike.  Two others, in fact.  There, I said it.  I’m not proud of what I’ve done but it certainly feels better to have gotten that out in the open.  I cheated.  I cheated on Isabelle.  But, before you judge me, let me explain, I’m really not a bad person.  I’m the victim!

The first time was totally not my fault, she was just thrown at my cleated feet.  What could I do?! Ah gee; she was a vision, so elegant and classy, all dressed in white and black.  Just the most subtle blue accents highlighting her sexy full carbon frame and fork, accenting her SRAM Rival drive-train [I’ve never owned a bike with a SRAM road grouppo].  And her name.  Her name was Cervelo, Cervelo R3.  So exotic!  And all that thick, luscious high-gloss white paint, makes my heart beat faster just thinking about it.

My knees trembled the moment Reilly said I could borrow her for my ride to Rio Grand Village, a 50 mile road ride from the Ghost Town east into the Big Bend National Park.  I knew it was wrong but I was helpless.  I was her’s from the moment I swapped-out my seat & seat-post.  I felt no shame at the time.  Heck, I even rode her home the next day!  Twice in two days!  My god what if the neighbours saw us together?!

The second, well, she was just a tart, a casual fling, nothing serious.  She meant nothing to me really.  Isabelle is so much better on the trails than little miss Kona Unit.  Honest!  Sure she’s got a steel hard-tail and maybe she is a feisty 29’er single-speed[you know what they’re like, meow!] who likes nothing more than to rip it up on the single-track, but really, it meant nothing to me.  In fact, I was thinking about Isabelle the whole time.  And besides, Isabelle’s just not giving me what I need; with her Lefty suspension fork rebound cartridge blown out and leaking oil, she just lays there like a cold fish.  I mean, I love here and all, but a mountain-biker has needs.  You know?!

Oh you just don’t understand.  It’s not my fault, I’m the victim here!   My god, what’ll we tell the children?!

I feel so ashamed.  But look at that white bar-tape, she a temptress!
The little tart, batting those sliding drop-outs like that.  I was the victim!

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