Breaking Up Is Hard To Do…

I am bereft, empty. There is a gaping void in my life: a bicycle-shaped hole where Wilma used to be. Yes, I have sold my downhill bike. We had some good times, Wilma and I. We were regulars at Chicksands Bike Park, visited Bike Park Wales several times, we even took two trips to the Alps together. That said, it was time for Wilma to leave. You see, she just didn’t do it for me any more. Sure, her shapely lines were just as shapely, and I still love the black, yellow and blue colour scheme.

There was though, a problem. Ever since Lola came into my life I began to notice Wilma’s shortcomings. The short reach suited me (I am less than tall, and not blessed with orang-utan length arms), but the wheels, oh, the wheels. Lola, you see, has 27.5″ hoops, whereas Wilma had 26″. I never thought I would be that fussed over wheel size, but it turns out it does that size does matter. I feel faster on Lola (whether or not I am remains to be seen), and that’s what counts. And so I’ve ordered a replacement: Dana (Scully, not the Irish songstress / politician) who is still a Cube, still a Hanzz (they’ve decided to resurrect the Hanzz name for 2018), but crucially, with the mid-size wheels.

It’s not all doom and gloom for Wilma though, I know the guy I sold her to, and I know how stoked he is to have her. So Wilma will get a second lease of life in her new forever home, and I now need to wait for that phone call from the bike shop.

Thanks for everything, Wilma, it’s been a blast…


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