Five years into our affair, Lapierre still moves me

This anniversary ode to my bike was originally published on my cycling blog, The Big Ring

Mario Bartel storyteller writer multimedia communicator blog cycling cyclist bike
Five years after my first ride on my Lapierre road bike, we are still in love!

Five years ago, Lapierre and I consummated our affair.

Ours had been a whirlwind courtship conducted from afar, loving glances at images of her in action.

Her supple curves and quiet confidence set her apart from the others, like the wispy, colourful Italians, the brash Americans, the functional yet unattainable Germans, the socially conscious Spanish. She had surprises, unexpected touches of endearing and exciting flare; the thumbprint of her creator, the racing rooster tattooed on one of her lithe limbs.

When finally we were in each other’s company, we knew ours was a relationship of destiny. Our first forays into the world as a couple were greeted with sideways glances, probing questions: Who is this Lapierre? How did you meet? What are your plans?

It’s funny to think back on the innocence of those early days when being together was all that mattered. Five years, and more than 20,000 kms on, we are still inseparable, still bonded.

Lapierre moves me when I’m mired in inertia. She challenges me when the road ahead rises up, protects me and wraps me in comforting confidence when it pitches down.

When we are together I want to travel as quickly as she will allow me, yet slow to enjoy our every moment.

I glow with pride when others give an approving nod, make a passing compliment.

While others succumb to fashion’s fickle trends, Lapierre’s beauty is timeless; there is no fluo in her wardrobe.

Some have questioned the future of our passion; will we stay together? They point to other seductive temptresses with their electronic baubles and more advanced bangles. They say just as Lapierre usurped my ardour for Orbea, a new love will catch my eye, tickle my desire, grip my heart.

Perhaps that will happen. You know what they say at the bike shop; once a wanderer, always a wanderer.

But in the warm spring sunshine, as Lapierre and I move as one, it’s hard to imagine…

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