Sunday, November 23, 2008
Update, 11/24: She's gone. I'm not even sure why it matters enough to write about. I mean, it's just a bike. But as anybody who spends time with old stuff knows... these bits of metal and plastic accumulate more than rust and scratches over the years. They grow soul.
Soul, whether belonging to man or machine, is not some kind of divine gift received at birth. It is the accumulation of time and experience. It's your first love, and (probably much later) the love that's forever. Soul is the playground fight you got into in the 5th grade (and then again in 7th, and uhh... let's not talk about years 21-28). It is also the voice that keeps you out of a fight now.
For a bike, soul is built as miles disappear beneath the tires. It's joy on Christmas morning, garden hose washings, and even the months of neglect out in dad's garage. This bike had soul in spades, and it showed over every square inch (if you took the time to look).
So while it's tough to say goodbye to an old friend, comfort comes in knowing that I nurtured an old soul. My mom, keeper of a million such living objects, will appreciate this closing statement...
It's not just stuff.