You probably noticed sometime last week I was acting strangely. You might have found it a bit odd when I took a screwdriver to your handlebars to remove the bell. Maybe you saw the girl who came last week and fiddled with your gears a bit. You probably tried to shrug it all off as just a phase.
It’s not. You have no idea how much it pains me to have to tell you this. You and I are finished. She bought you. I’m sorry.
You deserve honesty, so here it goes. I have a bike back home. I won’t hurt you further with details. But it is a bike I love very, very much. I sold you because I am going back to it.
Maybe you already figured there was someone else waiting for me. I never really brought it up, because we were having so much fun. Mentioning it would have just ruined our relationship. And really, the other bike never concerned you and me. Just because I’m going back to it doesn’t mean the moments we spent together in Paris weren’t meaningful.
Bike, I cannot image Paris without you. We saw everything in the city together. We got lost together. We found our way home together. We received a stern warning together when the police caught us riding the wrong way down a one-way street. When you were sick, I was so worried. I took you to the bike doctor not caring how much it would cost. Sometimes I thought someone had stolen you from me. Realizing that made my tummy really hurt. But it was just always me being silly and forgetting where I parked you. You know I can be silly. Thanks for putting up with me during those times — like when I broke too hard on wet pavement, and we both fell. Thanks for not letting me get hurt.
Things weren’t always easy for us. The upward incline on Rue de Belleville always tested us. But we always made it to the top together. And afterwards, after a few — or many — beers or glasses of wine, it was always so much fun to cruise downhill together to home. During those 60 seconds, with the Eiffel Tower in the distance and then the cobblestones that went BUMP BUMP BUMP, I was always the happiest I have ever been in my life.
There are so many other memories like that. Without you, bike, Paris would not be Paris. I can't even remember what Paris was like before you. You were the key to my happiness and to cheap transportation and to exercise.
Maybe someday I will come back to Paris and get a new bike. But no bike will ever be the same. I hope you will never forget me, because I will never forget you.
Love and Kisses,