On this date last year was one of the saddest days in my biking life. It was the day The Phoenix died.
The Phoenix was my pride and joy, brought back from wretched rusted abandonment with my own two hands and questionable repair skills to a charmed new colorful life as a single-speeder that really reawakened my passion of bicycling that had been dormant for a couple years since the end of my monumental ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles in 2003.
Today was eerily similar to January 21, 2008. Just as then I was in a hurry to get to work this morning, and just as then I raced out from under rain showers across the first half of 4th Street. Would the end of my morning commute find me grieving over a fatal crack in Le Noir’s frame?
No.
Le Noir’s as tough as ever. A great bike. Looking at her it’s hard to believe she’s logged almost 7,000 city miles. Hard miles. She’s a $345 investment that continues to pay priceless dividends.
But I still miss The Phoenix and I’ll never forget her.
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