The truth is, I haven't gotten to ride it in far too long. Just getting back on it to move it into the driveway, I got sort of weepy and nostalgic. The guy who bought it was a very nice man, in his late 40s or early 50s, looking for something "fun" to ride. Well, my bike certainly is that.
It was my first bike. My dependable commuter, my hot-looking baby, my "I can always find a place to park" buddy.
On the one hand, I'm ready to cry over it. Just cry. On the other hand, I'm also ready for a new bike. Something with a little more gumption. Something with a little more chutzpah. I don't know when I'd be able to get another bike. Probaby not until after the truck's paid off (and what I got for the old bike will go a long way toward paying off the truck), but I will get one.